To Be Human
by In Pieces
Summary: Post- DMC5. Vergil tries to cope with his newfound humanity. Nero and Dante try to make the whole dysfunctional-family-thing work. (Mostly Vergil-Centric).
1. Heartwarming Family Reunion

The landline began to ring, jolting Nero awake.

He'd fallen asleep on the couch yet again, arms crossed against his chest and head hanging low. His whole body felt stiff, and the dull headache that had pestered him for the last couple of days returned as soon as he opened his eyes, eating away the little sanity he had left.

Nero's mind went on high alert, pushing the irritating pain away as he walked towards the phone. The fire he'd started long ago had already died out, leaving nothing but a trace of ash in its wake. The light in the living room was still on, illuminating the wooden clock on the wall that showed it was far too early to call unless it was an emergency.

He answered the phone on the third ring with a coarse voice, and felt all traces of sleep leave his body as soon as he heard the voice at the other end of the line.

"_Hey, kid. We're home. Thought you'd like to know."_

* * *

Nero kept a steady gaze on the road in front of him, occasionally getting one hand off the steering wheel to take long chugs off of the energy drink he kept on the cup holder.

Sleep had been a luxury the last couple of weeks. Lesser demons were spawning all across Fortuna, and there was only so much he could do to try to eradicate them while also working full time at the mobile division of Devil May Cry and helping Kyrie take care of the kids at the orphanage.

He could only hope she wouldn't be too upset when she found the sticky note outside of the bedroom door that simply said: '_Going to Dante's. I'll explain later_.'

The shop looked the same as it did the last time he was there: inconspicuous, dark and bleak. A couple of spiders had made the windows their homes, covering them with a thin layer of scattered cobwebs. The stairs that lead to the door were cluttered with a colorful assortment of trash and dried leaves that crunched under his boots as he made his way up. He had a spare key for the shop somewhere on his key chain, but the door was unlocked, which wasn't surprising at all. Inside, a bunch of bottles, magazines, and papers were strewn all across the floor, and the lingering smell of dust, mold and rot made his nose wrinkle in disgust.

Dante was fast asleep at his usual spot with his arms crossed against his chest and his mud-caked boots propped on the desk. A questionable magazine was placed on top of his face, and it shifted ever so slightly every time he snored. No other sounds could be heard besides Dante's pointed snores and the constant buzzing coming from the Devil May Cry sign. It seemed that no one else was there, even if Nero was certain that Dante had said '_we'_ over the phone. The young hunter quickly discarded the thought, opting to focus on the sleeping man in front of him.

"Dante."

Said hunter stirred lazily as he tore the magazine off his face. He muttered a groggy, yet surprised greeting as he opened his eyes, wincing at the bright light seeping in through the windows.

Nero remained at the same spot in the middle of the room, staring at him with a strange intensity that Dante had only seen a couple of times before. A clear sign that things were going to get nasty pretty soon.

"You told me you were going to be stuck in the underworld!" Nero spat, feeling the anger on his chest rising with every second that passed. Dante looked so damn _calm, _as if nothing had happened at all. As if he hadn't called him in the wee hours of the morning and hung up the phone without explanations.

"No, you said that. You forgot your old man loves opening portals." Dante replied as he took his feet off the desk to walk over to Nero, feeling his sore muscles immediately protesting at the action. Nero didn't like the hint of humor in his voice, and the small smile on Dante's lips faltered as he let out a low sigh. "I didn't know if getting out was part of the plan, Nero."

"Bullshit." Nero sneered. "Do you have any idea how hard it's been to clean up the mess he left behind?!"

He'd seen the aftermath of the Qliphoth. The destruction. The pain. The thousands of graves scattered across cities. He couldn't pretend that it didn't affect him after the adrenaline wore off, or that he felt ready to take the burden off of Dante's shoulders and accept that he'd lost what he'd just found.

"I do," Dante replied, "and I'm sorry; I know I should've done things differently." His apology was sincere and went beyond their little stint in hell. He'd never had the chance, or the guts, to truly apologize for his faults. It was unfair to do it now, but it never seemed to be the right time to do it, did it?

"You fucking should have."

The red clad devil simply stared as Nero walked over to him, mentally preparing himself for another one of the kid's bitch slaps that would, most certainly, knock out some of his teeth if it landed in the wrong place. Nero looked so worn and tired, almost aged by the whole ordeal, and Dante knew that almost all of his anger was rightfully directed towards him.

He was the one that had kept things from the kid, opting to drown the guilt away with cheap whiskey and malt beer. Being around Vergil again brought some sort of long forgotten peace and happiness in his life, but Nero couldn't share the sentiment. The kid had to deal with one loss after another, and Dante couldn't help but to feel selfish after seeing how hard he'd taken his absence.

Nero stopped right in front of him, regarding him with hardened eyes. He took one good look at the caked dirt and blood that was still on Dante's face, the lines of age, and the evident guilt and resignation on his eyes. The young hunter let out a low exhale, feeling the frown on his face deepening as he closed the distance between them to wrap his arms around his uncle in a tight embrace. He didn't care that Dante smelled like the Qliphoth still, or that he hesitated slightly before returning the gesture. His hazy mind _needed _that type of reassurance in a childish sort of way, and maybe Dante did so too.

* * *

Devil May Cry was exactly how Vergil remembered it: a filthy pigpen that resembled a teenager's room instead of a serious business. The room Dante offered him was slightly better than the office, even if it only had the bare necessities: a bed with questionable yellow covers, a dresser, and a small wooden desk by the curtainless window, all riddled with a thick layer of dust and adorned with small critters that scurried away when he got close to them. Clearly unremarkable, but Vergil couldn't remember the last time he'd actually laid down on a bed –a proper one with a mattress and all, and not some bundled up pieces of cloth strewn across hard floors.

He would be lying if he said he didn't enjoy his time in the Underworld with Dante, but he craved solitude, even if his body demanded more rest than the couple of hours of sleep he'd gotten throughout the morning.

It was almost surreal to roam the streets without a clear motive in mind – and as himself, nonetheless. The city was buzzing with the sounds of people and cars rapidly passing him by on the busy streets. The wind smelled pure and almost sweet, a welcoming contrast to the fetid and dry winds of hell. The residential area had been rebuilt many years ago, but Temen-ni-gru still stood proud in the middle, like a titan overseeing the adjoining businesses and houses. That cursed tower had been the first of many horrid mistakes he'd made and the beginning of his inevitable downfall; the sole thought of that was enough to sour his mood for the rest of his walk.

He didn't expect to see Nero when he got back.

He was aware that Dante had gotten in touch with him, but he didn't anticipate seeing the child sprawled on the couch just like that. He was far too big for it, and his feet had to hang off the armrest so the rest of his body could be in a somewhat comfortable position. His forearm was draped over his eyes, shielding them from light coming from the neon sign Dante kept beside the fridge.

Vergil walked over to the irksome Devil May Cry sign and unplugged it, letting the power cord fall to the floor with a small thud. Now that the shop was quieter, he could hear Dante humming an unknown tune as he showered upstairs.

He focused his attention back on Nero, feeling a frown forming on his face. He was still coming to terms with the fact that he had a son, yet he couldn't deny that the thought of having a child made him feel _something _deep inside. He dryly though that, perhaps, it was what he'd once referred to as pesky fatherly love.

They were so different yet so similar all together. He could clearly see their physical resemblance now –something that, surprisingly, went over V's head, no matter how obvious it was. He'd tried to rationalize that Nero was his brother's son at one point or another. Cutting his nephew's arm for power seemed far less…ludicrous than the harsh reality, and it would've probably lessened the guilt and regret that plagued his mind. But, of course, that was something that he wasn't ready to admit just yet.

He had to take responsibility for his actions. To make amends. He'd already done so with Dante. The fact that he was there, willingly, in his filthy shop to honor their agreement was a clear sign of it. Making amends with Nero would be harder than promising 'to be around', but the least Vergil could do was _try _to capitulate.

Still, he would let the child rest for now; it seemed that he needed it –and _he_ needed it too.

That matter would have to wait until they were both lucid.

And willing.

* * *

**I'm a little late to the party, eh?**

**This is going to be a series of non chronological one-shots that focus on the wonderful adventures of everyone's favorite dysfunctional family.**

**Thank you so much for reading! **


	2. Ambitions and Bad Decisions

**Warning: Depictions of vomiting.**

* * *

Dante came to the conclusion that his dear brother and Nero had to go on a gig together. He was certain that fighting alongside his nephew was the thing that solidified their bond –and also giving him the Yamato, but he'd rather not go down that path right now.

The call he received had been stroke of luck, really. A high-profile client desperately needed someone to guard his mansion due to some demonic activity that was ruining his carefully designed garden. Oh, and the demons had also murdered some of his employees, but he'd definitely complained a tad more about the trees and potted plants. He paid good, or at least good enough to split it three ways and still feel like it'd been a productive day overall. Nero was a couple of towns over when Dante pitched him the job, and he'd, thankfully, said yes. Vergil didn't have much of a choice.

Convincing Nico to stay in the shop was easier than expected, even if it came with a price. Nero seemed both convinced and annoyed when she loudly stated that 'she didn't feel like driving' and tossed him the car keys when they were about to head out. Dante flashed her grin once the kid and Verge were out of sight, and she returned the sentiment before ushering him away to disappear into the little room behind his desk. He could only hope that his Devil Arms would play nice with the artisan.

The job itself was rather dull. Definitely not the action-packed adventure Dante was foolishly hoping for. He knew it would be a little boring, but he expected something _better_ than that snore fest. They saw nothing but low-tier demons leaving scorch marks on the grass and tumbling potted plants with their wings. Still, they'd managed to show Dante exactly what he was looking for. One thing was seeing Vergil and Nero fighting each other and another was seeing them fighting _together_. Their styles were vastly different, yet Vergil's refined moves and Nero's visceral strength complemented each other in a way. He could tell they were having fun, and so was he.

Eradicating the demons didn't take longer than a couple of hours, but the client insisted they should stay until sunrise. They'd agreed only because he'd thrown a couple hundred more for their time. Still, that glorified security job would have to wait. They deserved a break and Dante was _starving_. He knew for a fact that Kyrie always packed enough lunch to feed a small army, and she didn't disappoint: the fridge was full of colorful plastic containers filled to the brim with delicious homemade meals. He snatched the closest one and closed the fridge with his foot, carelessly popping off the lid and tossing it somewhere on top of the stove. She'd made pasta, and it was as delicious as he remembered it, even if it was cold.

Dante turned back towards Nero and Verge, unsurprised to find that they were pretending to be busy doing absolutely nothing at all.

"You know what?" Dante started, mouth still full of pasta as he swung the door open, "I'm gonna take a look around, see if there's anything interesting."

"I'm coming with you." Nero was quick on his feet but Dante didn't budge, almost making the kid bump into him.

"Nah. Stay here; I won't take long." The cocky grin Dante shot his way was enough for Nero to let out a low sigh as he watched the old man close the door behind him. He knew something was up the moment they'd arrived. There was no way that this was a three-man job. Maybe Vergil agreed to the whole thing? He didn't even bother to try to follow Dante out, and Nero doubted that the fighting had tired him at all.

"You hungry?" Nero asked casually, breaking the awkward silence that had fallen between them. He walked over to the fridge, lingering at the door as he stared at the mountain of food and cans of assorted beverages lying around.

"No."

Food was an indulgence rather than a necessity for the twins, even if Dante acted like he would starve to death if he didn't have at least a meal per day. Mother loved to cook for them, and Vergil could still recall the sweet smell of early Sunday mornings when she'd make pancakes for breakfast. She always hummed old tunes she heard on the radio as she cooked and, if he was lucky, she'd let him have the first taste of whatever concoction she was making.

That self-indulgent habit was long forgotten now, carelessly tossed aside when their home burned down. Being on the run didn't come with the luxury of eating. His stomach had ached for months after the incident, but he couldn't spare the thought of finding something that would only give him a faux sense of childish comfort.

Nero placed a plate in front of Vergil, snapping him out of his thoughts. The blue-clad devil frowned as he stared at the steaming pile of spaghetti, feeling its warmth and the smell of basil and oregano softly reaching his face.

Nero took a seat in front of him, and the table was so small that their cheap plastic plates almost touched. "You were staring at the pot this whole time. No way you're not hungry." There was a playful yet mocking smile on the child's face, one that remained on his lips even when he started to blow on the forkful of food he now had close to his lips.

Tasting the meal wouldn't be so bad, would it?

Vergil laid the fork on the table when more than half of his plate was gone, idly following the conversation that happened between bites. A persistent queasiness began to manifest in the pit of stomach, one that rapidly spread to the back of his throat. Hot saliva began to pool on his mouth, and he took it as his cue to rise abruptly from the table, earning a questioning look from Nero as he disappeared into the hallway.

Vergil dropped to his knees in front of the toilet, firmly gripping the sides of the cheap plastic bowl as he emptied the contents of his stomach. The sight of half-digested food coupled with the smell of raw sewers and puke was appalling, to say the least. The bathroom was, perhaps, the filthiest part of the van. The stains on the toilet were a clear sign that the room hadn't been cleaned in a long time, and the thick layer of grime that covered the floor had decided to stick to his knees, leaving a strange wet spot on the fabric.

He would be a fool to believe that Nero hadn't heard him. The child's footsteps were loud, perhaps as loud as Dante's, but he had the courtesy to knock on the door, even if it was half-open.

"Uh, you okay?"

"I'm _fine_." Vergil hissed over his shoulder, catching the genuine concern etched on his Nero's face before he had another fit of disgusting bile slithering up his throat. At least Nero had the common sense to leave after that.

Vergil should've known better than to stuff his face with food when all he'd had over the last couple of weeks had been half-cups of tea. He couldn't recall the last time he'd actually eaten a full meal, and that could only mean that it had happened when he was still eight, only a couple of hours before the demons attacked his home.

He took one good look at himself in the small mirror after he'd rinsed his mouth to try to get the bitter taste off his mouth. His bloodshot eyes stared back at him, and he noticed the small beads of cold sweat that were on his temple. It was laughable to see how much that simple action had drained him.

Nero was rummaging through the contents of the glove box when Vergil reemerged from the bathroom, cursing under his breath until he pulled out a brightly-colored blister pack hidden under some crumbled papers.

"I found these." He said, "They are a little expired, but I took them a couple of days ago and they were fine."

Vergil took the pink packet that Nero was offering him, twisting it around to see that it contained some sort of chewable tablets to soothe stomach ailments. It would be entirely pointless to take them, but perhaps they would lessen that annoying rasp that was still on his throat.

"Thank you." The tablets felt like chalk on his mouth and tasted like mint and dirt, but anything was better than the taste of bile that lingered in his mouth.

The van's side door swung open and Dante grimaced when he stepped inside, fanning the air in front of his nose before dumping the now empty food container on the sink. "Smells like someone died in here."

"Good thing you noticed; you are really starting to smell like ass." Nero retorted as he hastily grabbed Red Queen before turning towards Vergil. "I'll take the next shift; I think there's a sport drink somewhere in the fridge, try to drink that."

"Don't be ridiculous."

Vergil's words had little effect on Nero, and the young hunter simply shrugged before he left. Dante eyed his brother as he plopped down on the couch, taking in the sight of the half-empty plates on the table. He laughed wholeheartedly when he connected the dots, to Vergil's dismay.

"Should've warned you about that. It took me about a month to hold down food after I'd been in hell for a while."

"I suppose I should thank you for that." Vergil replied dryly, passing by his dear brother as he exited the van to join Nero.

* * *

**Thank you for reading**!


	3. 06 22

Nero sighed, taking a moment to stop and look at the plethora of graves surrounding them. The sun shone brightly through the trees, giving his cheeks a prominent flush. Vergil walked a couple of feet ahead of him, face looking a little red too. Still, the old man refused to take his coat off even after Nero had resorted to tying his own around his waist in a futile attempt to cool down.

He'd never liked Fortuna's humid summers. The temperature made him irritable, more so than usual, and he could feel his exasperation coming in waves. He couldn't complain, though; the whole thing had been his idea, after all.

Vergil said she was part of the Order's medical team, yet her grave was nowhere to be found in their section of the graveyard. Nero had always thought that it was stupid to segregate graves. As if any of that mattered once they were six feet under. The tombstones were all preposterous there, made out of pure marble with the Order's insignia etched just above the name of the deceased. He kept walking at his own pace, stopping abruptly once he spotted a very familiar name among them all. Guilt began creep up on his mind, even if he was well aware that he was staring at an empty grave. He'd made it himself out of tile and cement, trying to mimic the finish of the adjoining tombstones that belonged to his parents. It was a crude copy, but Kyrie said Credo would've liked it.

Nero felt his father's gaze fixated on him and, after taking one last look at the tombstone, he walked past it. It wasn't a topic that he was ready to talk about with him just yet.

"Are you sure she's dead?" Nero asked after another hour of staring at the sea of graves.

"Yes."

Well, that was useful.

"We've been here all day. Don't you think we would've found her already if she was actually here?" Maybe it was the heat, their lack of progress, or Vergil's impassive expression that made Nero want to turn around and go back to the van. It didn't sound that bad when they'd started; how hard could it be to find a fucking grave? It wasn't as if there were millions of people buried in the cemetery. Sure, he knew it was going to be hard to find her when all they had were a name and a very vague notion of her surname, but he expected to find at least _something_ the first couple of hours they'd been there.

Nero sighed when his father didn't answer. The young hunter stopped, shaking his head with a scoff as he watched Vergil snaking around another row of graves. Nero was about to turn back and leave him there when he noticed Vergil had stopped.

The tombstones all looked the same in that part of the cemetery: unkempt and generic, riddled with moss, dirt, and surrounded by dried grass. Nero wasn't sure what he expected, but it certainly wasn't that. He knelt down by the grave, dusting the cobwebs off her name.

Chiara. Her name was Chiara.

She'd felt like a distant myth until now, and his mind couldn't really process what to think about it all. Was he supposed to feel happy that they'd found her? Sad because she was dead?

His hand stopped right by her death date and, after a couple of seconds, he wiped the caked dirt off of it. A dry chuckle escaped his lips, although it was breathier than he expected, almost shaky.

"She died the day I was born." He said, although it felt like he was thinking out loud. He stood up slowly, still staring at the grave. His mother's grave. He glanced at Vergil, who was staring intently at the tombstone with an expression Nero couldn't quite read. Maybe sorrow, maybe regret, maybe a mix of both with a hint of resignation.

Nero stayed by the grave for a couple of minutes after Vergil walked away. There had been too many family revelations in the last couple of months and, no matter how hard he tried to assimilate them, they always seemed to put his mind in a strange place. She'd died young. Barely nineteen. That was…tough to swallow.

Vergil said nothing when Nero got in the van with his nose in a pretty shade of red. Nero could see Vergil glancing his way from the corner of his eyes, and the unwanted attention was genuinely making him feel uncomfortable.

The sun was going down now, painting the sky with hues of orange and red. They were slowly leaving the cemetery behind, welcomed by the sight of paved roads and familiar faces that stepped aside when they saw the van coming through, unsure which of its drivers was behind the wheel.

"How did you know she was dead?" Nero finally asked, hoping that it would deter Vergil from staring at him like that.

"She would have raised you herself if she had been alive." Vergil stated, as if the answer was obvious from the start. They'd both been careless and irrational, but the thought of her abandoning her child, _their_ child, was outright ridiculous.

Nero nodded, taking in the information. There was a pause after that, one where neither of them chose to speak, too engrossed on their thoughts. The hum of the van's engine and the rattling of loose screws and power tools somewhere on the back acted as background noise in lieu of unplayed music.

"So...what was she like?"

"Stubborn," Vergil answered after a pause, recalling a distant memory with amusement. "She was the only fool who dared to speak to an outsider."

Nero snorted and felt a small smile making its way towards his lips. "Runs in the family, huh?"

"I suppose it does."

He didn't expect to hear a lot from Vergil; he wasn't the talkative type and there was very little he knew about his father's past –hell, Nero didn't know much about Dante's either, but he was certain that his uncle would be a little more open to talk about it if he played his cards right.

It didn't take long for them to be back at the house. Seeing the familiar facade and Kyrie's silhouette moving around the house from the window made Nero's mind relax, if only for a minute. He was still trying to cope with the day's events, reminding himself that _he_ wanted to know about her, and that seeing her name had given him the closure he'd craved in his early years.

"It's getting late. Why don't you spend the night here?"

Vergil's hand was already on Yamato's hilt, ready to open a portal to go back to the city, but the child's invitation caught him off-guard, making his fingers lose the grasp on it. He took it with mocking amusement, feeling the corners of his lips twitching up as he turned towards Nero. "You do realize that I can open a portal back to be city."

"Yeah." Nero answered, nonchalantly walking towards the door and swinging it open. "It was worth a shot."

* * *

The phone started ringing in Devil May Cry, echoing loudly through the shop just as Dante was about to enter the bathroom. He tossed his reading material on top of the toilet, an old gun magazine he'd read a thousand times, and gave it a longing look before he rushed towards the phone, picking it up on the second ring.

"_Hey, it's me. Vergil's staying here tonight."_

Dante chuckled, instantly recognizing Nero's voice at the other of the line. "You don't have to cover up for him, kid." He was half-joking when he'd said that. He wanted to trust Vergil, but his brother didn't have the best track record when it came to letting things go, and the Yamato made it oh-so-easy to go anywhere in a matter of seconds. His remark was met with silence followed by shuffling as the phone changed hands.

_"I'll stay with Nero tonight."_

"What? You're having a slumber party without me?"

_"… Try to keep everything clean while I'm gone."_

The line clicked off on the other end, and Dante let out a low hum as he stared at the phone on his hands.

* * *

**Thank you for reading and supporting the story!**


	4. Power and Control

Things were vastly different now that Vergil was home.

The shop actually looked like a business nowadays. Dante had gotten used to the assortment of books and papers strewn across the floor, the empty beer cans and whiskey bottles on the table, his favorite lewd posters adorning the walls and, most importantly, the empty pizza boxes on top of every possible surface. He thought they gave the shop some character; Vergil thought otherwise. And so did their clients. He was growing tired of the surprised comments about the shop's overall cleanliness and lack of putrid smells. One time someone asked if he'd gotten a wife after marveling at the shop. No, he didn't have a wife, just a very anal brother who liked things his way.

They'd agreed to keep common areas clean. Dante's room was still an uncharted territory full of stained clothes and empty packets of strawberry-flavored cookies. Vergil's, on the contrary, looked like a hotel room. He'd revamped it all, changing the piss-colored covers to dark gray ones. He'd gotten a new set of furniture, decent curtains and an expensive-looking chair that faced the desk where he kept Mom's picture. Dante let him have it; he could always go to Verge's room if he needed to see her.

The twins shared a room when they were young, and Dante couldn't remember how many times they'd almost walked in on the other changing, picking their nose or trying to fix some intricate ornament they'd managed to smash into pieces. The indignant screaming that followed almost always resulted in a fight - verbal or physical, depending on the twins' mood.

Their door had to, understandably, be unlocked and open most of the time so Mom could corroborate that they weren't at each other's throats yet again so the twins were forced to adopt a system for themselves: a closed door meant that they absolutely couldn't go into the room. Knocking, talking or even standing outside the door was prohibited in their little code of honor, even if the door was unlocked. If the door was slightly ajar then they could treat it as an open door –and retain some sort or privacy from prying eyes.

Dante always kept his door open – and no, it had _nothing_ to do with the fact that he'd once kicked the door in and now it didn't close all the way. Verge's door had been closed the first couple of weeks after they were back, but now he'd sometimes keep it ajar despite the imminent danger that posed.

Dante didn't do his laundry often. In fact, he only did it when all the clothes he kept in the drawers and floor reeked of sweat and blood. His hair was still wet when he entered Vergil's room, leaving small droplets of water on the floor as he rummaged through the dresser. The socks were on the first drawer, all neatly folded in rows. Dante thought that, if his twin ever wore anything that wasn't black and blue, he'd probably sort them by color. He snatched a black pair and sat heavily on the bed. Even the mattress here felt good, unlike that rock Dante called a bed.

He leaned back, relaxing against the covers and staring at the ceiling with the socks still on his hand. He liked the stillness, the faint sound of birds chirping in the distance, and the way the sun rays managed to seep in from the window to give it a little bit of warmth. Soon after, he heard the sound of the front door opening and almost soundless steps making their way up the stairs. Such a bad timing.

Vergil stopped at the door, glancing at the sprawled form of his twin with a raised eyebrow before he closed the drawer Dante had graciously left open. The sound made the red-clad devil raise his head slightly, catching only a glimpse of the top of his Vergil's head as he moved around the room before he leaned back down again. He expected his dear brother to kick him out, not to calmly look for something on his desk and ignore him.

Vergil smelt like cedar and smoke, vaguely sweet yet earthy. Dante wondered if that was what everyone referred to as the 'Sparda' smell. He hadn't paid much attention to it, or perhaps his own unsavory stench had managed to mask it.

"What do I smell like?"

"My shampoo," Vergil quipped, "I foolishly thought that we were done with the menial brandings."

That made Dante wholeheartedly laugh, reminiscing their early years. "I'll get a new one when it runs out."

"I highly doubt it."

Dante sat on the bed with a grunt. Vergil was by the desk now, skimming through the pages of an old tome he had at hand. Sometimes it was a little hard to believe that Vergil was there, in the flesh, trying to live the life that was taken from him decades ago.

"Do you remember Mallet Island?"

Of course he did.

Vergil remembered the cold energy waves traveling through his body under the armor. He remembered how vague his thoughts were back then, clouded by a red haze that filled his mind. He remembered those small periods of lucidity where he obsessed over the snippets of his past life that flashed before his eyes. Sometimes he remembered a face, a voice, a word, all incoherent thoughts on their own, but meaningful in ways that his mind couldn't comprehend. They made his heart and mind ache and would inevitably bring in more of that haze. Constricting. Searing. Red.

He remembered Dante, all clad in red and hints of black, wearing his half of the amulet. He remembered fighting him thrice, ending their brawl only when his broken body couldn't bear to go any further.

He could still remember as V. He remembered that he'd almost _laughed_ when Dante showed a sliver of skepticism after Vergil's name was mentioned when they'd first met. Dante truly believed that Vergil had died by his hand on the island, but death refused to come even after Nelo Angelo's armor had shattered and set him free –if one could refer to the bitter taste of blood and defeat as freedom.

"Is that why you are here? To wallow in self-pity?" Vergil replied apathetically. Dante's presence was doing _wonders_ for his concentration, and the last thing he expected was to have a conversation that neither of them was ready to have. He snapped the book closed, turning to face his brother's slouching form on the bed. Dante had a distant look on his eyes, and his brow was almost furrowing as he stared at the window, watching the wind slowly shift the curtains to show the clear sky outside.

"Wouldn't call it that," Dante started, making a small pause to collect his thoughts. A year ago, on that very same day, he'd been sitting on the couch, staring at nothing and drinking the cheapest bottle of whiskey he could find until the memories from Mallet Island became a blur. He couldn't begin to comprehend what Vergil had been through, and he certainly didn't want to undermine the years of trauma his twin suffered by comparing it to that gaping hole his 'death' left on his heart. He was aware he should thread lightly, even if Vergil seemed dismissive. There were so many things he wanted to say, but perhaps he should start with the one that was eating him up the most:

"I'm sorry for not doing more."

Vergil said nothing for a few seconds, mulling over his twin's unexpected apology. "You've done enough." He admitted.

As much as it hurt his younger self's ego, Vergil knew that he would be still under Mundus' command if it weren't for Dante –and he would've never been in that predicament if he'd allowed Dante to follow him into the Underworld, or if he'd thought about the implications of his actions before plunging into that slow descent into madness and power.

Dante chuckled, shaking his head slightly as he stood up. He didn't want another trip down memory lane, or at least not before noon. He knew how much Vergil liked to hold grudges, maybe even more than Nero did, but knowing his brother held little to no resentment about the things Dante had done took a heavy weight off his shoulders.

"Didn't know I needed to hear that."

"You have always been oddly sentimental, have you not?"

"Look who's talking."

He recognized that smile playing on Vergil's lips, all too familiar to V's, bordering on rueful and mocking. He returned it with a weak one of his own and took it as his cue to leave, fingers brushing against the smooth door frame as he left the room.

"Dante."

"Yeah?" He poked his head around the door, noticing that Verge was now sitting by his desk.

"Leave the socks where you found them."

* * *

**Thank you for reading!**


	5. Daddy Issues

Dante could hear Nero's booming voice as he approached Devil May Cry. He couldn't understand what was being said, but he could tell the kid was _pissed. _The screaming caught the attention of a couple of passersby that gave the building a weary-eyed glance before scurrying off elsewhere.

Vergil came out of the building looking as broody as ever but with his head held high. He didn't see Dante coming, or perhaps chose not to, as he walked away. That simple action was enough proof that Verge and the kid had gotten into a fight yet again. The red-clad devil was surprised at how level-headed his brother was around Nero. He had a hunch that Verge wouldn't even dare to go the good ol' stabbing way that had become a staple in their family, and yielding, in those particular cases, seemed like the lesser of two evils, even if it delivered a direct blow to Vergil's overly-inflated ego.

Vergil had told him not to meddle with his business. Nero had told him to let them sort things out themselves; but how could he not interfere when he sometimes felt Nero was _his_ kid?

Dante had tried his best to help him make a name for himself in the devil hunting industry, declining jobs that would pay for the month's bills just so he could refer the clients to Nero's newly-formed business in Fortuna. He told him all about the clients he should avoid, how to give a quote that included all business expenses, and how to stand out as well as keep a low profile –all things that Dante didn't do himself even if he probably should; but, most of all, he tried to _be_ there, even if it meant driving all the way to a random highway in the middle of nowhere at three in the morning to help Nero jumpstart his old bike or spending the weekend at Fortuna and helping him and Kyrie at the orphanage.

He'd once heard Nero refer to him as his old man – not to his face, as usual, but on a conversation Nero was having on the phone a day after Christmas. Nero and Kyrie had invited him to spend the holiday with them, and Dante had been sitting on the couch, staring at the now-empty mug of hot cocoa he had on his hand when Nero stood up to answer the phone. He didn't want to eavesdrop on the conversation, but he'd been close enough to hear Nero declining a dinner invitation because 'his old man' was visiting. That one stung a tad more than Dante wanted to admit, but he played it off when Nero asked about his sudden mood change, feigning tiredness.

Nero was smart enough to know that they were related somehow. Dante never implied that he was his father, but he'd also failed to mention that he _wasn't_, and any attempt to clear that up would've made that situation worse than it already was.

Dante pushed those thoughts away as he entered the shop. Nero briskly looked up from his position near the couch, face a little red from the screaming and jaw clenched as he heatedly tossed something inside his overnight backpack. "Your brother is a fucking asshole." He spat, all traces of angers still fresh and clear on his voice.

"Yeah, he's a delight to be around." Dante's attempt to laugh at the situation fell on deaf ears. Nero swung the backpack over his shoulder as he strode towards the door with a deep set frown on his face. "Hey," Dante stepped aside to get in his way, successfully making the young hunter stop. The side-eyed stare the kid shot his way was _brutal_. He'd forgotten how harsh the kid could be when he wanted to. "Where are you going?"

"I'm not staying here with _him_." Nero stepped aside a little too forcefully, nearly bumping into Dante's shoulder.

"Though Nico was staying at Lady's tonight."

"She is. I'm not waiting 'till tomorrow."

Nero seemed unwavering with his decision, swinging the door open and stepping into the pleasant autumn breeze before slamming the door behind him. Dante knew there was absolutely no way he was going to catch both the bus and ferry on a Thursday evening, but his clouded judgment probably wouldn't let him see that. And so he left the shop, glancing left and right until he caught a glimpse of a familiar mop of silver hair moving swiftly through the crowd. A sigh escaped the hunter's lips as he followed suit, squeezing between the throng of people to catch up with that hot-headed nephew of his. Nero was determined to reach the bus terminal before the sun managed to go down completely, eyes fixed on the horizon. A yellow cab passed right beside them, and Dante was thankful that Nero's bubbling anger managed to oversee that.

"Nero."

Said man glanced over his shoulder and turned abruptly, giving Dante barely enough time to catch up. "Let him handle his own shit for once." Nero spat. He was sick and tired of Vergil being coddled like that; he was a _grown man_, for fuck's sake. He couldn't possibly expect Dante to do all the damage control for his shitty decisions. Nero could look past some of the secrets and family drama, but he wasn't going to tolerate Vergil's half-assed efforts when Nero was actually _trying_ to make things work.

"I'm not doing this for him." Dante retorted, knowing fully well that the kid wouldn't believe him. He wasn't doing it for Vergil. He was doing it for Nero. And for himself. Still, he knew better than to push it further. Last thing he wanted was to push Nero away or make him think that his anger wasn't valid -because it was. They were talking about Verge, for fuck's sake; _he_ was supposed to be the smart one, yet he was always the one pulling stunts like that. "But I'm not gonna force you to stay." He finally concluded, watching Nero's face soften for a split-second. Maybe all Nero needed was space, and if he needed to be stuck all night in a bus terminal to clear his thoughts so be it. "You know where I'll be if you change your mind."

It was a long shot, but Dante couldn't suppress the small smile that made its way towards his lips when he saw Nero coming in through the double doors at the bar, wrinkling his nose at the smell of cigarette smoke and alcohol that lingered in the air. He awkwardly adjusted the strap of his backpack as he made his way towards the booth Dante was sitting at, trying not to bump into anyone and spill their drinks.

Nero knew Dante would be there, stuffing his face with the best strawberry sundae that hole-in-the-wall could produce –which, funny enough, beat every single sundae Dante had tried on actual ice-cream parlors scattered across the residential area. Nero'd never tried their sundaes before, and eyed the glass that was placed in front of him rather skeptically. It wasn't bad, but it didn't beat Kyrie's homemade ice-cream.

The moon and stars were shining bright in the sky by the time they were back to the shop. The seedy adjacent bars were becoming alive, neon signs blinking left and right to beckon nearby walkers to enjoy the taste of overpriced beer and fake top-shelf alcohol. As pleasant as the evening promised to be, they decided to go inside in order to avoid the cigarette smoke that the wind would inevitably blow in their faces if they lingered outside any longer.

Vergil heard them coming from his room, momentarily pausing his reading when he heard the echoes of their voices followed by the sound of music coming from their recently-fixed jukebox. It seemed like they were having a rather pleasant conversation, which was the exact opposite of the one Vergil had with Nero only a couple of hours ago.

Claiming that he was jealous would be an _overstatement_. He was simply…_amused_ by his inability to sustain an ordinary relationship with his own son. He'd been mostly alone his whole life, save for the odd couple of relationships he'd formed with ulterior motives in mind, and trying to find common ground with Nero was proving to be far more difficult than he thought.

It was frustrating to be on that predicament. Vergil had always been resourceful. He'd been thrown into the world not only once, but _twice_, with nothing but a broken body and he'd still managed to find a way to come out on top, but trying to bond with Nero left his mind blank, unable to process a way to approach him –funny enough, V didn't have as much trouble bonding with Nero, going as far as considering him a worthy ally and even a friend.

Dante made it look so _easy_ to get on Nero's good graces.

Perhaps it had something to do with the fact that Vergil saw Nero as a naïve child still and not quite an equal. But wasn't Dante guilty of doing the same? Hadn't he insulted Nero's abilities when they were inside the Qliphoth about to face Urizen?

Yes, he had. But he'd done so to protect Nero. That was what set them apart.

Vergil descended the stairs when his thoughts were beginning to give him a headache, hoping to find some sort of solace at the bottom of a tea cup.

Dante had assembled his old and flimsy pool table at the center of the room. Nero was hunched over the table, holding the cue stick at an awkward angle to try to hit a solid red ball near one of the corners as Dante watched with mocking interest. Nero looked determined, far too concentrated on the game with a cocky grin on his lips before his eyes wandered towards the figure that was now walking down the stairs. Vergil saw the smile faltering on Nero's lips, and his eyes, far too similar to his own, hardening before he turned back towards the game, hitting the cue ball a little too forcefully and missing his shot.

The change in the atmosphere was undeniable.

Dante invited Vergil to join them but he declined the offer. Vergil watched them play and banter from their poor-excuse-of-a-kitchen as he waited for the water to boil, noticing how Dante gave Nero a reassuring pat on the back after the whole ordeal to de-escalate the situation. The smile returned to Nero's lips as he paraded around the table, looking to find the next stroke of luck that would make him beat his uncle at his favorite game. Vergil almost felt like an intruder, watching from the shadows with an odd sense of envy looming on his mind. Dante had always been the one to come out on top, hadn't he?

The tea left a bitter taste on his mouth as he walked back into the confines of the room, closing the door behind him to try to tune out the sounds of spite.

* * *

**Thank you for reading!**


	6. Familiar Faces

That had been, by far, the most interesting call they'd gotten the last couple of weeks.

The call came in from an old farmer that lived at the outskirts of the city. The old lady was a tough one, a hunter with a pretty decent aim, if he remembered correctly. She'd done her homework and made some arrows coated in holy water to fend off the pesky demons that managed to get into the property, and that safety measure had, for the most part, kept things peaceful on her end.

She was sure she'd landed a hit. She heard the demon howl in pain and thought it was a goner. The dead goat she found half an hour later told her otherwise. Interesting enough, that was the demon's only kill, and the old lady mentioned the now-deceased goat was a little bit of a rascal who loved to head-butt just about anything that moved. A kill done out of retaliation, maybe?

Vergil wasn't supposed to be there too, but he'd overheard the conversation and thought the gig was 'interesting enough'. They weren't getting paid, so his twin was doing the most in exchange for a very warm thank you and perhaps a slice of homemade apple pie.

The whole place stank like manure with the faintest note of sweetness coming from the hay scattered around the property. Not exactly Dante's favorite, but it was manageable. He shot Vergil an amused look when he realized how careful his brother's steps were, hoping not to step on some rotten food or a pile of dung. He wished him good luck; there was no way they weren't going home with the smell lingering on their clothes and some 'mud' stuck on the ridges at the bottom of their boots.

The doors to the 'crime scene' were wide open to air out the stench of death. There was blood sprayed over the floor, walls and, strangely enough, the ceiling; all in a semi-straight line that lead towards the back of the building. The air felt heavier in there, carrying the weight of danger that put his mind on full alert. Dante materialized his Devil Sword on his right hand, eyes immediately darting towards a strange dark liquid of sorts that appeared to be behind a stack of hay. He took a couple of dedicated steps towards it, stopping momentarily when a pair of red orbs began to float in the shapeless form as it rapidly pooled to the center of the room, shifting and molding into a solid four-legged form.

"Aww, it's a kitty!" Dante chuckled, letting his stance soften slightly as he turned towards his brother. Vergil was staring at the demon almost with amusement, the corners of his mouth faintly shifting into a rueful smile. So that's _why_ Vergil was so adamant about going with him.

The panther-like demon let out a mighty roar, baring her teeth at the pair of hybrids who stood only a couple of meters away from her as twirls of magenta pulsated through her muscular body. Her tailed twitched, eyes darting from one man to the other as she took a defensive stance, ready to pounce on anyone who dared to step forward.

Vergil let out a low hum as his eyes caught a glimpse of gold sticking out of one of the Shadow's hind legs. "You are in no position to fight, let alone warn." He averred, ignoring the demon's advice as he took premeditated steps towards her, attentive to her reaction.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

It took Dante a couple of seconds to realize that Vergil wasn't speaking to him, but to the Shadow. The demon roared and let the sound rumble in her chest when Vergil was too close for comfort, morphing her body into a stiff arch as her head transformed into a flurry of spikes. Soon after, a thick spike was thrust in Vergil's direction, who simply stepped aside to avoid the damage, all too familiar with her attacks.

"I might be able to assist if you allow me to."

That _not_ how things were supposed to go. They were supposed to get rid of her, tell the farmer that it was all good, and maybe take a detour on the way home to try out that new pizza joint by the bank.

"Verge…" Dante warned, letting Vergil fill in the gaps of his silence. His dear brother didn't even bother to look at him, far too interested on the creature in front of him. She was smaller than V's Shadow, barely reaching Vergil's knees, and didn't look nearly as big and scary as he used to be.

She was cute in a murderous sort of way.

Dante would be lying if he said he wanted to kill her. She'd done no harm besides that one goat, but what were they supposed to tell the farmer? Thank her for giving them a heads up so they could keep the demon?

The Shadow huffed, softening her stance and taking weary yet curious steps towards Vergil, her rear leg trembling as she did so. Now that it was closer, Dante could see that the shiny spot on her body was actually an arrowhead that had gotten stuck in there, gripping the demonic flesh with all its might and spewing holy water like a slow poison.

"I was acquainted with one of your kind," Vergil explained, watching the Shadow approach him with an odd sense of satisfaction. She circled his body, sniffing the air around him before she let out a small and less intimidating roar. Vergil shook his head. "No. You must come with us, should you wish to heal."

That was starting to sound an awful lot like a conversation, didn't it?

"Wait, you speak Abyssal?"

"It has proved to be quite an efficient skill." Vergil replied, reminiscing the days when V used to rely on Griffon to interpret his Shadow's messages. The most formidable foes he'd faced spoke the Common language, but the lesser demons communicated in Abyssal and, more often than not, screeched important information that Vergil could use to his advantage. He couldn't quite speak it in his human form -the human vocal cords weren't made to produce such intricate yet raw sounds, but he'd never bothered to use his Sin Trigger to try to communicate in that language.

The Shadow seemed semi-convinced about it and took a seat in front of Verge, letting his hand make its way towards the top of her head to give it a reassuring pat. He gave the dirty barn one last look before he turned towards the entrance, motioning the Shadow to follow him and only giving Dante a passing glance as he walked past him. "Tell the client her problem has been solved."

* * *

Nero had just grabbed a fork when he felt his phone buzzing in his coat pocket. He was a tad surprised to see Dante's name across the screen. He seldom received texts from the old man; in fact, he couldn't remember the last time Dante initiated a text conversation with him - he'd always been more of a caller, and even his calls were scarce.

Turns out it wasn't a text, but a video.

Nero heard Dante snickering as the camera quickly panned from the floor towards the scene unfolding in front of him. Vergil was sitting on the red leather couch they kept in the office, inspecting a small gold-colored object he had on his right hand. Dante aimed the camera a little lower, pointing it at the creature who was happily sprawled across Vergil's lap. The Shadow nudged Vergil's free hand with its nose, breaking the man's concentration and earning a gentle pat on top of the head.

_"Just wanted to introduce you to the newest member of Devil May Cry."_

Vergil looked up at Dante with annoyance, and the Shadow lazily turned her head towards the red-clad devil. _"Who are you talking to?"_

_"Nero. It's a video. Say hi."_

Vergil said nothing, but the Shadow snorted before the video cut off.

"What the _fuck_?"

* * *

Not even a minute passed before Nero was blowing up Dante's phone. He answered the call casually, keeping a grin on his lips as he paced around the room and ultimately stopped at his desk, lazily sitting down on top of it. He finally laughed at Nero's outburst, which resulted in another earful coming from the kid.

"Nah, no contracts. We got a call to…_you know_," He started, glancing over at the Shadow who was still too busy trying to nap on the couch. "But Verge brought her back to ours."

Verge pretended not to be interested in the conversation, eyes momentarily looking past the tip of the arrow on his hand to stare at his twin. He had one arm crossed against his chest and the other lazily propped up to keep the phone pressed to his ear.

"I don't think she'll stick around. She's a little injured, so we're gonna wait a bit, and then we'll send her home." Dante shifted the phone from one ear to the other, pretending that he didn't feel Vergil's eyes fixated on him. He fell silent for a couple of seconds, and the amused smile on his lips turned into another kind of its own. "Yeah, who knows? Maybe we'll find a Griffon next time."

* * *

If receiving a text from Dante was weird, receiving one from Vergil was even stranger. They'd never called each other, let alone texted. It was actually a surprise that Vergil had saved his number.

Nero sighed, preparing himself for what he thought was a butt-dial text and hoping that, whatever it was, wouldn't be something he _shouldn't_ see.

Turns out it wasn't a text, but a picture.

The nameless Shadow was sleeping on the couch, one paw on top of the other to serve as a pillow to rest her head on, tail lazily hanging on the edge of the cushions. The soft pink light from the Devil May Cry sign cast a pretty glow over her head, complementing the pink tones that were gracing the black of her fur.

It was a good picture, even if the camera quality wasn't doing it a favor.

_'Cute.' _Nero replied. He looked down at the table, angling his plate and scooting his drink closer to it. Might as well sent one back.

He snapped a picture of the slice of vanilla cake one he had on his place. One of their neighbors had graciously given it to them as a thank you for their service. A bright multi-colored mug filled with bitter coffee was also in the picture, right beside his plate. A perfect example of a cozy late-evening treat.

He wasn't expecting a reply, but his phone buzzed to life on the table and Vergil's name flashed across the screen.

_'Revolting.'_

Nero snorted, a small smile playing on his lips as he quickly typed an answer.

_'Asshole.'_

* * *

Thank you for reading! :D


	7. Human After All

"Do you know how to make wards?"

Dante shook his head as he snatched the last slice of pizza from the box, blowing on it for good measure to avoid burning the roof of his mouth again. "You're asking the wrong guy."

Nero rolled his eyes, wiping his mouth clean with the only napkin left that was right beside Dante's pile of greasy paper towers. His eyes wandered towards his father, who was mechanically polishing Yamato's blade to get rid of all the tiny specks of blood that'd managed to soil it.

"Hey, Vergil," Nero almost hesitated when his father's name came out of his mouth. Was it odd that he felt slightly unsettled about calling him by his name? Dad didn't sound right, and he'd only called him father ironically that one time on top of the Qliphoth. It was one of those awkward little things that didn't seem to get better as time went on.

"Hybrids can't create them." Vergil replied before Nero could even finish the question, not even sparing a glance at his interested son.

Nero crumpled his napkin into a ball and tossed it on top of Dante's pile, watching with an odd sense of satisfaction as some napkins fell into the open pizza box. "Is there any way to buy them or something?"

"There is," Vergil replied, "But wards are considered a luxury."

Nero snorted at the jab. He supposed that was Vergil's not-so-subtle way of saying he couldn't afford them.

"How much?" Dante chimed in.

"A Vital Star."

Nero would've rather given Vergil's mysterious contact actual money. He hadn't seen one of those in ages, and it took him and Dante over an hour or two to find the lone star the old man had somewhere in the mess he called his room –it was in his closet, inside a worn-out boot that he hadn't touched in at least half a decade. Nero had forgotten how flimsy those things were as he carefully placed it in his coat's pocket, trying his best not to smash it into pieces.

He wasn't sure why Vital Stars were so hard to get now, not to mention how expensive they'd gotten. And to think that the Order used to hand them off like candy back in the day. Nero made a mental note to, at least, buy Dante dinner tonight to thank him for it.

Vergil slashed the open space in front of him, and the low hum of the fabric of space tearing apart buzzed in Nero's ears as he stared at the vast and dark emptiness that loomed inside the portal. He followed Vergil with careful steps, not fully knowing what to expect. The buzzing intensified on his ears as soon as he placed a foot inside, feeling like white noise emanating from somewhere inside his brain. The shifting void felt like walking on air; a very cold, prickling air that engulfed him whole before it thrust him into the middle of a hot forest that reeked of wet soil.

The scene in front of them seemed straight out of a cheap horror movie. A log cabin stood in the middle of the forest, almost hidden in debris and fallen tree leaves that masked the many holes on its roof and walls. The windows were busted and covered in mud as well as something that looked like old blood and grime. White smoke was coming out of the chimney, the only clear indicator that someone –or, rather, something- was living in those deplorable conditions.

"Don't allow her to touch you."

Vergil's warning sounded ominous enough for Nero to raise a questioning eyebrow, but not enough for him not to follow Vergil into that poor excuse of a house. The air felt heavy and damp around them, almost making it difficult to breathe the pungent mixture of herbs and wood smoke coming from the chimney. Something that resembled a woman stood in front of a makeshift desk, mumbling to herself as she inspected a variety of liquids inside odd shaped chalices. She turned to face them when the sound of heavy boots caught her attention, and a deep chuckle emanated from her mouth, dark and distorted, when she recognized the familiar face that had stepped into her abode.

"To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit, Son of Sparda?" Her voice was alluring and soft, which was something Nero didn't expect by the way her laugh had resonated on her chest. "Or should I say, _my king_." A crocked grin appeared on her cracked face as she took an exaggerated bow in front of them, tattered robes pooling at her feet as a piece of flesh dislodged itself from her face and fell unceremoniously on the floor with a disgusting splat.

"I need a ward." Vergil wasted no time with pleasantries and, judging by the way he was staring at her, Nero could tell her little trick did little to amuse the devil hunter.

The demon laughed, and its human vessel began to crack and sag even further, letting the reddish hue from her true skin show under the thin mortal flesh. Her bulbous body pulsated underneath the dull skin, unblinking black eyes as dull as the couple of stray hairs on her head staring straight at Vergil. "We all need things, don't we? You need a ward; I need to survive. And I'm certain you have _nothing_ that interests me."

"Not even this?" Nero quipped, pulling out the fragile little green thing out of his pocket. The demon let out a gleeful, high-pitched screech as she tossed the chalices on her desk, splashing murky liquids all over its surface. Nero could sense the annoyance seeping off of Vergil when the eldest hunter grabbed the Star from his hand. Curiously enough, the demon's eager steps towards them slowed down significantly, and the wicked grin plastered on her face faltered once the Star switched hands. She approached Vergil carefully, extending her hand expectantly and greedily closing her fingers around the object when he tossed it on her open palm.

"They'd been increasingly hard to find lately, but I'll spare you the dull details." The demon gave them a dismissing wave, enjoying the weight of the Star on her hand before she carefully placed it in one of the pockets of her dirty robes, pleased with the offering. She turned her gaze towards Nero and, while Vergil didn't seem tense, he could see his hand hovering ever so slightly over Yamato. She parted her cracked lips as her beady eyes squinted at Nero's form with sudden interest. She sniffed the air around them, and her face contorted itself as much as it could into a frown. "You smell like that treacherous Sparda, but not quite the same. Sweeter, even. A bastard son, perhaps?"

Nero frowned at the odd comment and steadied himself when one of her bony fingers stretched towards his chest. He could faintly see his own reflection on her void eyes as Vergil's words resonated deep within his mind, fingers already reaching for Blue Rose to pull it out of its holster. The demon recoiled with a hiss and brought her hand closer to her chest protectively, glaring at the sleek blade grazed with blood that now stood between them as a barrier.

"He's mine," Vergil rasped, icy eyes making the demon cower in regret. "There will be no warning next time."

Nero relaxed his stance and gave his father a thankful nod as the demon retreated back towards her desk, leaving bright droplets of blood on her path as Vergil sheathed Yamato, making sure to wipe all the thick blood off with the edge of its scabbard before he did so.

The demon mustered the courage to chuckle nervously. "Yours? Human women are enthralling little creatures, are they not?" She gave a dramatic sigh when she received no reply and slumped against the desk, eyeing them wearily as her demonic limb slithered out of the severed flesh, replacing the space that the human hand occupied with leathery and pulsating skin that bloomed into five distinctive finger-like appendages. "A ward, you said?"

The ward was certainly underwhelming: it resembled a small, glowing pebble that was barely the size of his fingernail. Nero wasn't going to complain, though. It was inconspicuous enough to be placed inside a potted plant or something and call it a day-he had a hunch that the kids weren't going to like the idea of being trapped inside the house if demons were looming outside when he wasn't around, but Nero couldn't take any chances now that demons were starting to creep around the island again.

The air flowing through the forest felt like he was breathing in pure oxygen compared to the heaviness inside the demon's old cabin. He couldn't shake the eeriness of the situation off his mind as he cast one last look at the old house, noticing the demon was now kneeling in front of her vessel's severed digits to pick up the pieces.

The trip back towards the shop was war more pleasant than the first time, even if the sudden temperature changes chilled Nero to the bone. Dante was nowhere to be seen and the phone had been disconnected, which meant that, sooner or later, that Patty girl was going to burst through the door and raise hell because of that.

It wasn't going to be pretty.

"What was that whole thing about her not touching me?" Nero casually asked as he raided the small fridge in the shop, rummaging through its contents and hoping to find one of the energy drinks he was sure he'd left in there the last time he was around. He couldn't see any of them, but he found one of Nico's canned coffees in there. Finders keepers.

"She's a parasite." Vergil dismissed, reaching for the phone cord that was on the floor beside the desk to plug it back in again.

"… Okay?" Nero was half-expecting the old man to elaborate on his answer, but Vergil became fixated on a bunch of papers on top of the desk, effectively ignoring his presence.

Vergil knew Nero wouldn't have been quick enough to avoid her. He'd made that foolish mistake only once before, when he was far younger than Nero was and, quite frankly, more ignorant. He hadn't even felt the tip of her fingernail on his hand, leaving nothing but a small scratch. That error resulted in several restless nights and feverish dreams, feeling her corroding him from the inside and painfully tearing his organs apart bit by bit. Only then, in that half-decaying state, he'd been able to trigger, rendering the demon's preparation for a new vessel useless.

He would've retaliated back then if she'd been far less useful than she proved to be.

And, while he was well aware that Nero could trigger, the possibility of the child suffering the same consequences he had experienced left a foul taste in his mouth.

How _sentimental_.

"Thanks for going with me." Nero only got a small nod in response, the kind that let him know that Vergil was barely acknowledging his existence once again.

But, if he was honest with himself, that was probably all he was going to get out of the old man.

* * *

**Sorry about the lack of updates, things have been a little hectic these last couple of days.**

**Thank you so much for reading!**


	8. Bad Liars

Nero stepped out of his uncle's dirty room, holding Dante's coat tighter around his body as he awkwardly walked downstairs. His own coat had suffered the unfortunate side effects of a rather messy fight at a junkyard, effectively coating it with blood, guts, and old car oil. He'd begrudgingly thrown it into Dante's unreliable washing machine, hoping the damn thing wouldn't tear it to pieces.

He felt a little clownish wearing that obnoxiously-red leather coat that nearly reached his ankles and clearly smelt like humidity and cheap cologne. Dante said it was the coat he used to wear when he in his early twenties. Nero laughed at his shitty taste, and Dante laughed when his other coats and jackets were far too big for Nero and riddled with layers upon layers of dust, making them impossible for him to wear.

It was either that or freezing to death, and he would rather swallow his pride for a while.

He'd been feeling a little odd the last couple of days: headaches, stuffy nose, a couple of coughs here and there. He'd tried convincing himself that he wasn't getting sick –he couldn't afford the down time, if he was being honest with himself; they were running low on food and the kids needed a new pair of shoes-, but the cold rain that soaked him to the bone as they were fighting at the junkyard had other plans for him.

Nero shivered, hair still damp from the scalding shower he'd taken. He'd spent at least 30 minutes in there trying to get the oil off his hair to no avail, forcing him to accept that parts of it were going to look a little brown for the rest of the day. The hot steam managed to unclog his nose slightly, but not enough for him not to long for the days when he could actually breathe out of both nostrils.

He let out an amused chuckle at the scene unfolding in front of him. Shadow was lazily trailing behind Vergil like a lost puppy, following him from the desk towards the kitchen.

The twins had said they weren't going to keep her, but _someone_ placed a fuzzy blanket on the couch, one of her designated napping spots, because she could get _cold. _And _someone else_ let her sleep in his room and bathed her because she _liked it_.

Her fur still glistened with moisture from the bath Vergil had given her to melt off the car oil that had splattered on her fur. She didn't mind the filth, and even rejoiced when the hot blood accumulating on the Empusa's blood sack rained down on her after a particularly vicious kill.

Her attacks weren't nearly as damaging or polished as V's Shadow were, but Nero supposed that was something she would learn with time, not in the couple of weeks she'd been with Vergil –and certainly not without Vergil telling her what to do. Still, she'd done a good job out there impaling those pesky Green Empusas that flew around the perimeter and gnawing on the bejeweled abdomen of Red Empusas.

She was smart enough not to deal with larger preys –or maybe Vergil had _something_ to do with that, because Nero remembered the distinctive and almost warning growl that left Vergil's throat in his Sin Trigger form. She'd swatted Vergil's twitching tail a couple of times in protest, red eyes darting from the gluttonous Behemoth in front of them to the Empusas to her right before she morphed almost into a liquid on the floor, spikes protruding out of her in a straight line as she approached the smaller demons.

Vergil glanced at Nero from the corner of his eye, distaste coloring his features in the form of a scowl. "I am certain I own something far less ridiculous you could wear."

Nero looked down at the coat, sweeping off a little dust that was stuck on a couple of folds near the chest area. "This thing's fine. Does the trick." He replied, sounding a little too nasally for his taste. A smile made its way towards his lips when Shadow approached him. She sniffed the end of the coat and, after a couple of seconds, walked away with her mouth agape and her tongue sticking out in disgust.

The smile faded from his lips to give way to a disgusted grimace. He left the coat on a chair, hoping that the air would dissipate the smell.

Nero felt oddly intruding stepping into Vergil's room like that, even if the old man was leading the way. Dante was still in the shower taking his sweet ass time and humming tunes as steam seeped from the small space under the bathroom's door.

Shadow brushed past his legs before she jumped on the bed as Nero stood awkwardly by the door, watching Vergil open one of his drawers.

"Must you stand there?"

Nope, but he didn't feel like barging into his father's room just like he did in Dante's. Hell, he'd slept in his uncle's room a couple of times when he was out of town and, even if the shop felt like a second home, Vergil's room was not a place he felt comfortable in. He ultimately decided to sit on the bed, feeling the mattress sink under his weight as Shadow scooted closer to him.

Shadows weren't supposed to be overly friendly with humans, but she didn't seem to care much about them as she walked proudly beside Vergil down the streets of the city, acting as if she was far bigger and scarier than an oversized domestic cat. Shadow gave his hand a small nuzzle to get his arm out of the way so she could lie on his lap, and the trick certainly worked, forcing Nero to raise his hand as she settled as much as she could on top of his thighs.

Dante had said that she was, technically, still a cub. Maybe that's why she had latched onto Vergil and refused to leave for the time being.

Vergil offered him a black sweater. It looked relatively thin but, once his hands touched the fabric, he realized it was one of those tricky ones that would do enough to keep him warm. He'd never seen Vergil wearing anything but his long coat, and Dante had joked, more than once, that he didn't even own shirts. Still, his drawers seemed fairly full of an assortment of neatly folded dark-colored clothes. Nero took a look at the clothing label to see the size –it looked a tad small, and he didn't want to stretch it-, but, instead of looking at the size, he gave the brand a long stare.

Nero gave Dante shit for buying a leather coat that could pay for, at least, 5 months of rent, and here was Vergil, spending a fraction on that on a fucking sweater from a luxury brand that he was definitely going to cough up on or something.

"Thanks." He almost debated if he should actually put it on or not, but another shiver traveled through his body, making his teeth chatter. Shadow refused to move as Nero carefully put the sweater on, even going as far as digging the tip of her claws on his thigh when he patted the side of her body to get her to move.

"Are you ill?"

"It's nothing." Nero dismissed. "I just need to sleep it off."

It didn't take a genius to notice that Nero was feeling under the weather. Vergil's room was the warmest in the building, yet Nero still seemed to be shuddering. He'd noticed the child had been swallowing hard, sniffing and sneezing all over the place and refusing to eat once they were back. All symptoms of the common cold that Vergil never had the pleasure of suffering.

"Shadow." Vergil turned towards the demonic feline, calling out her name so she would follow him outside. She leaped off Nero's lap, her markings glowing with every step as she happily walked behind the older hybrid.

Vergil closed the door behind them without another word, giving Nero very little choice but to stay there. He hadn't said it like _that_\- the couch was comfortable enough for him to sleep in, and he didn't mind as long as he had a blanket on top-, but he was beginning to think that leaving him there was one of Vergil's odd ways of showing that he kind of cared. The bed was surprisingly soft, the room pleasantly warm and inviting, and trying to sleep while his nose wasn't so clogged was probably the best idea he'd had that day.

Dante was honestly surprised at Vergil's newly-found parenting abilities. Kid was nowhere to be found, Verge's door was closed, and his twin was downstairs doing who knows what. Shadow was curled into a ball on one of the rugs on the floor, looking a tad like a cinnamon roll every time her markings glowed.

But, as good-intended as Vergil's actions were, he was still as clueless as ever.

Dante knew he didn't _have_ to check up on the kid, but he felt a prickle of concern for him, no doubt as a result from the time he'd cared for Patty. He'd made sure that Nero didn't have a fever- he was a little warm, but nothing to worry about. Still, he'd cranked the window open just to let in some of the cold air from outside. The kid was lying on his back, head hanging to the left and away from the window, breathing a little heavy and leaving a small pool of drool on Vergil's pretty pillows.

Nero was sleeping on his side the second time Dante entered the room. Shadow was sprawled beside him, her back pressed against Nero's and her paws stretched out before her, breathing in almost in tune with him.

Dante had a feeling she'd taken it upon herself to keep an eye on his brother's spawn. She had, not long ago, tried to 'protect' Vergil from a Proto Angelo and ended up with her core exposed when its blade connected with her body. Vergil hadn't been too happy about that.

"Your kids are still asleep." He mentioned once he was back on the first floor. Vergil was by the desk, keeping track of the month's expenses and underlining their questionable food budget that Dante might or might have not surpassed.

Vergil grunted in response, finding the comment characteristically dull. He felt his mind wandering once again, and his neutral expression turned into a slight frown. How curious it was that he felt bothered by the fact that Nero could get ill. He'd assumed that he'd be unaffected by such ailments just as he and Dante were.

He was aware that his annoyance was unrequired. He'd seen Mother ill countless times before, lingering in bed on cold winter days with her nose all red and, even if she knew she couldn't infect them, she would still urge them not to get close.

The fact that Nero could and would get ill meant _nothing_.

Seeing him coming down the stairs with drowsy steps still, nose all red with toilet paper up his nostrils before he flashed him a tired smile, thanking him for letting him sleep in his room in a nasal voice meant _absolutely nothing_.

* * *

I know I said Vergil wasn't going to keep Shadow, but I couldn't help myself. I had everything laid out to explain why she couldn't stick around, but I kept thinking of this small, cat-like demon playing with Vergil's tail and somehow that turned into this chapter, lol.

The next one's probably going to be a Christmas especial. Please let me know if you'd like to see the kitty on that one too.

Thank you so much for reading!


	9. Rare Moments

"You _have_ to go."

"It was an invitation, Dante. I'm allowed to decline."

"Yeah, that's not how it works," Dante sat on top of the desk, inspecting one of the papers Vergil was looking at before it was swiftly taken away from his hands. "Kyrie called just to invite you."

"She invited _us_."

"Nope, I haven't gotten an invitation in years. I'm just expected." Right on cue, Dante's phone buzzed alive on his pocket, and he pulled the device out of it to take a quick glance at the screen, giving Vergil a smug smile. "See? That's Nero telling me to bring extra blankets." He carelessly tossed the electronic device on top of the desk, letting Vergil see all the cracks and scratches on its screen –and Nero's conversation where, apparently, all Dante ever replied was a dry 'ok'.

"I fail to see your point."

"The point is that I'll be _fun_."

"I can assure you our definition of fun is quite different."

Dante let out a hearty chuckle at Vergil's cluelessness. He had a hunch that trying to reason with that thick-skulled brother of his was going to lead nowhere. He didn't have to explain _why_ spending Christmas with his son's family was such a big deal –and what Kyrie personally inviting him truly meant.

"…You're not scared of a little party, are ya'?"

That comment was enough for Vergil to tighten his jaw in annoyance, eyes momentarily leaving the letters on the pages to look up at Dante, breaking that perfectly polished mask that Vergil loved to wear to give way to an insulted sneer. "Is that what you think?" Vergil leered, holding his brother's gaze before he looked back towards the papers. "I have no desire to attend the bash." He dismissed.

"Okay," Dante started, lazily bringing his feet back on the ground and pocketing his phone, hearing it clink when it collided with the keys he had somewhere in there. He shrugged casually when his brother gave him a pointed look before he turned to walk towards the door, looking back right as he turned the doorknob. "Call your son and tell him you're not going, will ya? I'm sure he's not going to be disappointed."

Vergil sighed.

* * *

Vergil begrudgingly got into Dante's car a month after Kyrie's call. Shadow followed suit, jumping in the back seat right after Dante placed her fuzzy purple blanket on top of it. He knew the seats could get cold enough to freeze anyone's ass off, and Shadow hadn't been particularly happy about the temperature drop in the last couple of weeks.

Vergil hadn't been too happy when he was informed that Christmas at Nero's was a two-day affair, and that opening a portal in the middle of Fortuna wasn't the most sensible thing after the Red Grave incident and Fortuna's history. And so he spent the entire ride sulking in the seat, pretending he didn't like Dante's music playing on the stereo –he did like some of the more classic rock tunes, but he wasn't about to give his twin the satisfaction of knowing that.

Vergil was certain Dante was driving like that on purpose. He was far too slow, far too cautious, a stark contrast with the way he'd seen him riding Cavaliere. Shadow had gotten so bored that she started to claw the seat, and retorted Dante's stern reprimand with a well-placed swat on the face before she slept the boredom off.

His twin had the nerve to stop at a crowded bakery in Capulet, claiming that they couldn't arrive empty-handed and that Nero loved the pastries they sold there. Vergil waited in the car for at least 40 minutes, watching out of the window as Dante slowly made his way towards the counter from the seemingly interminable line, pointing at a couple of pastries as a flustered girl quickly gathered his order. He took his time at the counter with the cashier, all smiles, leaning against it, making the cashier laugh and tuck a stray piece of hair away from her face. Dante jerked his head Vergil's way, and, much to his discomfort, the girl turned her head to look at him, which earned her a dull stare. Dante came out some good five minutes after, grinning as he, on one hand, carried a white box full of goods and, on the other, balanced two small cupcakes.

"The cashier is the owner's daughter. She always gives me a freebie. The chocolate one's for you." He explained as he closed the door, letting Vergil grab his treat before he carefully placed the white box somewhere on the back, petting Shadow as he came up to start the car. He finished his small strawberry cupcake in one bite before he crumpled up the wrapper and tossed it on Vergil's lap.

How thoughtful.

Vergil took a bite of his cupcake once they were on the highway again, finding the decadent chocolate taste particularly desirable. He could tell why Nero was so fond of that place.

The rest of the ride was uneventful at best. Vergil either ignored Dante's blatant attempts of making a conversation, amused him when boredom finally struck, or tried to stop Shadow from jumping into the front seat with him. He failed that last task after Shadow conveniently moved through the small space under his seat, forcing him to move it back so the demonic feline could be somehow comfortable in the cramped space. She ultimately decided she didn't want to stay there and jumped on Vergil's lap, tail smacking Dante's face as she settled in, partially obstructing Vergil's view of the endless road.

Dante laughed, momentarily taking his eyes off the road to see the scene unfolding beside him. "What's wrong, Kitty? Felt alone back there?"

Shadow huffed, nuzzling Vergil's jaw as her head made its way towards his shoulder to rest there. Vergil caressed her back, watching her markings react as his hand traveled down her spine.

"_Cold_." She offered as an explanation, and Vergil felt her hot and sulfuric breath reach the side of his neck. She heard Dante laugh again and scooted even closer to Vergil, closing her eyes to enjoy the warm air that was now blowing straight onto her back.

Much to Dante's dismay, Vergil fell asleep sometime after with the kitty acting as a blanket, head tilted back on the seat and a bit to the right, nearly resting his head on his cat-free shoulder. Dante turned the music down and cranked the heat a little higher, keeping a small smile on his face as he gained a tad more speed now, passing by a couple of cars on the crowded highway.

* * *

Vergil couldn't fathom why Dante had simply barged into Nero's home, loudly greeting whoever was there. Vergil stayed a couple of steps behind, observing the façade that felt familiar on another life. The garage doors had been open back then, the sound of metal against metal had rung on his ears as Yamato called for him, pulsating with renewed energy in the presence of her true master, and his son's broken cries had faded away in the low hum of a portal.

He could also hear screams now. Youthful and joyful ones, greeting Dante as he came in. Kyrie was in kitchen and turned to look at the commotion, a gentle smile appearing on her face when she saw Dante surrounded by the children. She quickly wiped the flour off her hands with the apron she was wearing before she greeted his twin with a hug.

The inside was warm, courtesy of the raging fire in the chimney as well as the oven that engulfed the house with the smell of what Vergil could recall as turkey and something fruity. A small tree could be seen in the living room, decorated with vintage ornaments and colorful twinkling lights.

Kyrie greeted him as warmly as she greeted Dante. Her auburn locks were pulled back on a ponytail, hints of flour dotting her temple. The smile on her plump lips reached her eyes as a sign of genuine intention when she mentioned she was glad he could be there with them. Vergil stiffened at the contact, and she immediately apologized, a tint of red coloring her cheeks. "Nero will be back soon. Please, make yourself at home."

Dante sat down heavily on the couch beside his twin with a grin on his face as he watched Vergil being his awkward self away from the chaos. The kids were running behind Shadow with a Santa hat on their hands, determined to put it on the demonic feline.

"Having fun?"

"Of course." Vergil dryly replied, watching the living room with mocking interest. The clock ticked painfully slow, showing that it was five-past six. There was too much noise, too many idle conversations, too many innocent questions asked by the children. Kyrie had asked for his help to set the table, whisking him away from the children's prying inquiries for a couple of minutes and offering him a far more interesting small talk. But now he was back again with his dear brother, tuning out his incessant blabbering as he diverted his eyes towards the fire on the chimney, watching the flames dancing steadily.

Nero came through the door a couple of minutes after, shivering as he wiped off the snow stuck on his boots on the welcome mat. He was carrying a couple of gallons of milk on each hand for the hot cocoa Dante had been raving about for the last couple of months.

"Hey," He greeted, a smile adorning his features as he walked towards the kitchen, stopping by Kyrie to give her a small peck on the cheek before he placed the milk on the fridge. "Sorry I'm late. Had to catch the ferry." He spotted the twins on the couch and walked over to them, halting his pace when a blur of black passed him by followed by the kids.

"Kid," Dante greeted, standing up with a grunt to give his nephew a hug that was returned with animosity. Physical affection was scarce between the two, making it far more meaningful the odd couple of times it actually happened.

"You're not gonna stand up?" Nero asked, staring down at Vergil who, with a frown, did what he was told and felt his son's arms wrap around his body in a gentle hug. One with purpose, he noted, and with genuine care as Vergil simply patted Nero's back with one of his hands, still not used to the sudden physical affection that everyone was so keen on showing that evening.

Shadow quickly approached them with her stocky legs, letting a low rumble resonate on her throat as she snaked between Nero's legs to stand behind Vergil.

"_Tell them to stop_." There was no distress in Shadow's tone, only blatant annoyance, her patience already wearing thin. She understood that the tiny humans were only that, but her childish desire to play faded when she'd swatted the hat away from their hands a couple of times and they'd refused to take the hint.

Vergil diverted his gaze from Shadow towards the kids rapidly approaching them, hat still on the hands of the one in the front whose name still escaped him.

"That's enough."

The kids stopped behind Nero, the youngest one nearly bumping into him. The smiles on their faces quickly faded at Vergil's harsh tone, muttering a small apology as they turned away from the hunters. Dante let out a small sigh, giving his dear brother an annoyed look.

"Kitty's tired right now." Dante said. He heard the demon huff behind him, and only gave her a dismissing wave. "Maybe she'll play with you after dinner."

Shadow didn't like that in the slightest.

"Dinner's ready!" Kyrie called out, prompting the kids to make a dash towards the table to take their favorites seats.

Vergil has never seen such an absurd amount of food in his life. The table was full of an array of different dishes, ranging from a stuffed turkey to salads, mashed potatoes, roasted vegetables and bread. He was only half-intently listening to the conversations around him as he chewed his food, amusement coloring his features when a particularly humiliating story about his brother was shared, and vaguely answering the questions thrown his way. Shadow seemed to be enjoying herself beside Vergil, munching on the pieces of turkey he'd been placing on the ceramic plate Kyrie had given her.

The evening had been enjoyable, to a certain degree. It reminded Vergil of times long past when he and his brother had been in the place of the three children gleefully tearing apart the brightly-colored wrapping paper on their presents and rejoicing when they saw the assortment of clothes and toys inside. It felt, strangely, like home. The whole atmosphere, the warmth, the noises, the lingering taste of hot cocoa on his tongue, the way Dante looked at him when he laughed at a particularly amusing story, making sure that he was also having fun.

Vergil was growing tired of socializing, feeling a prickle of regret and an overall sense of discomfort standing there, looming over the party. He felt detached out of it all by the time the kids were opening their last presents and a pleasant conversation was taking place by the fireplace between mouthfuls of pastries and pie that left crumbles all over the rugs and floor. He retreated to the confines of his room, giving Dante a look that he understood all too well and responded with a small nod, the smile on his face diminishing slightly.

Shadow lazily perked her head up when she felt Vergil pass her by on his way towards the spare room he had to, shamefully, share with his brother for the night, and she took the time to stretch before she jumped off the couch to trail behind him.

One moment Vergil was there, a half smile on his face, and the other he was gone, taking Shadow with him.

"I'll be right back." Nero told Kyrie, giving her a small peck on the cheek before he stood up, taking the lone present that sat underneath the tree. The warmth from the fireplace didn't quite reach the corridor that lead to the bedrooms, making him shiver as he adjusted the beanie on his head. His old bedroom's door was closed, but he could see a bit of light seeping from underneath. He knocked a couple of times, sniffling from the cold until he heard Vergil's muffled voice telling him to come in.

"Got tired of the party?"

"I suppose you could say that."

Shadow was hanging out by the end of the bed, sprawled on top of her blanket. She turned to lie on her back when she saw him approach, one massive paw swatting the air in front of him until Nero started playing with her, bringing his hand close to her mouth so she could gently nib on it while her paws closed in on his forearm. "What about you? Ate too much chicken?" He got a gnaw in return, followed by an apologetic lick with her sandpapery tongue when she saw him wince.

He looked back towards his father, noticing the tip of his nose, just like his own, was starting to adopt a red hue due to the cold. Vergil looked tired… as if the party had drained him. He couldn't blame him; the old man was only used to dealing with about four people at a time back home.

"Didn't think you would come, to be honest. I know it's not your thing." Nero started, taking a seat beside the demon who was still busy with his hand. He wiggled it a couple of times, feeling her adjust her gentle grip on his limb. "But I'm glad you're here. Means a lot."

Vergil only nodded.

"And this is for you." Nero continued, holding up the present wrapped in blue that he kept on his free hand.

Vergil frowned. He wasn't expecting any gifts, let alone one from Nero. He took the rectangular box from his son, carefully tearing the wrapping paper apart only to be greeted by a black leather box with metal clasps. He undid them, feeling the corners of his mouth twitch up at the contents inside.

He distantly recalled V having that conversation with Nero months ago. They'd been inside the van, in the dark, idly passing the time. Nero had been sprawled on the couch, tossing an empty gum pack up and down and asking about his music tastes just to fill in the silence. V had mentioned in passing he used to play the violin and enjoyed it greatly.

"Thank you, Nero." He said it sincerely, making the worried expression on his son's face morph into a soft smile.

Nero could see the dimples on Vergil's cheeks, something that he hadn't even noticed his old man had in the first place. He'd seldom seen him smile genuinely, perhaps only mockingly, the steel on his eyes ever so present, and, even if his smile didn't reach his eyes, Nero could tell he genuinely enjoyed the present.

Nero had gotten it in lieu of payment from a concertmaster –sure, he complained about Kyrie sometimes taking food as payment and there he was, taking a violin instead of cold, hard cash. Someone offered him a pretty penny for it when he'd gone to get it tuned and, while he the money would've been great, he _wanted_ to give it to Vergil.

"Think you can still play it?"

"Crudely." Vergil replied. He was bound to break a couple of strings here and there when he practiced, but his fingers itched with anticipation, longing to feel the strings under his digits. It had been too long since he'd sought solace under the notes of an instrument, hoping it'd bring him forgotten memories of simpler times.

"Maybe we can practice sometime. I'm a little rusty too." Nero's guitar was out there, gathering dust somewhere on the basement, most likely out of tune.

"Maybe."

"I'm heading back out. Let me know if you need anything, okay?" Nero wiggled his hand free from Shadow, giving her a gentle pat on the head as he walked towards the door, looking back over his shoulder when he was greeted by the dimly lit corridor. "Merry Christmas, Dad."

* * *

Happy Holidays and Happy New Year! Hope you all have a wonderful time ❤️

Thank you so much for reading!

See ya next year.


	10. Toss a Coin to Your Devil Hunter

"_I want Vergil._"

Dante frowned, adjusting the phone on his ear just in case he might've misheard that. He glanced at his twin, who was sitting on the couch with a book in his hand, calmly turning the page, clearly unaware of the conversation. "Yeah, escort gigs are not really his thing."

"_How much to have him?_"

Dante couldn't understand why she was so keen on having him on board. He was pretty sure that Verge didn't even like kids. He'd tried to persuade her to pick someone else, but none of his efforts seemed to work. A lady, maybe? Nope, she wanted Vergil. A younger guy 'closer' to the kid's age who was actually good with kids? Nope, she wanted the tall, broody one.

Dante let out a barely-audible sigh. Maybe it would be best to just let his dear twin handle it.

"Let me put him on the phone."

Vergil, by now, was attentive of the conversation, and raised an eyebrow when Dante took the phone off his ear and extended it his way.

The red-clad devil couldn't tell what she was saying now –Vergil wasn't giving him much to work on with all those one-worded replies-, but the neutral expression on his face hardened ever so slightly as he motioned Dante for a pen and paper to jolt down some details before he hung up.

* * *

The job description had been simple enough: meet with the child and make sure he reached his destination in the heart of Northam Forest.

He arrived at the secluded bus stop at 9:00 AM sharp, finding the boy already there, sitting on the bench, legs swinging over the edge and head pointed down as he stared at his boots, seemingly unaware of his surroundings. His head snapped up with a frown when he saw Vergil's boots on his peripheral vision, and he stared at the hybrid long and hard, eyes fixated on the pretty sword on his hand before they shifted towards his eyes.

"Are you Mister Vergil?"

Mister. He'd never been called that before.

"Yes. I suppose you are Connor."

The bright-eyed boy nodded before he jumped off the bench, adjusting his backpack when his feet hit the ground.

The child was, undoubtedly, human, but Vergil could feel something emanating from him, albeit faintly. Not quite demonic power, but rather a mark on the back of his neck pulsating weakly in tune with his heartbeat.

Of course the woman had avoided telling him that the child had been offered to a demon.

He let Connor guide him through the forest, only nodding as the boy went on and on about his life, his family, the toys he had, the fact that it was his birthday and aunt dearest left him in that bus stop, alone, with tears in her eyes as she made him promise he'll be a good boy. A bitter and unhopeful farewell, it seemed.

They kept a steady pace through the uneven ground, still moist due to the rain that had graced the land only a couple of days ago. It would've been easier to end the contract on a far more controlled environment, but he supposed the woman's intentions had been to mask the boy, who was all clad in brown and green, with the foliage and nature surrounding them, as if demons would be fooled by such a petty trick.

There was nothing in the air that could signal an attack, only the tiredness emanating from Connor, who had resorted to drag his feet on the ground and walk slower than he did before –which, if Vergil was being honest, was far better than having him bouncing around and eating dirt when he eventually tripped.

"I'm hungry." Connor announced as he plopped down on top of a rock, carelessly letting his backpack fall on the floor in front of him as he pulled out a small apple from one of its front pockets.

Children were far too messy for Vergil's liking. Connor's hands were full of grime and mud, but he still happily munched away his food, merely wiping the excess dirt on his jacket, leaving brown stains on it. The juices coming from the apple trickled down his chin, small drops of it mixing with his drool as they fell onto the soil.

"Want some?" Connor managed to ask with his mouth still full of food. A chunk of the fruit flew off his mouth and landed on his knee as he offered it to Vergil.

"No."

The air smelt pure and fresh, like pines and wet soil. No trace of demonic stench around them just yet, but Vergil could feel a demonic presence trickling in slowly behind them, following the path they had taken.

He allowed Connor to eat his snack in peace before they set off once more, following the dirt road that only lead to more and more trees. They all looked the same, and so did the shrubs, rocks, fallen leaves and sticks poking out from the mud. It would be the perfect place for an ambush, away from society, from the main roads.

"What kind of name is Vergil, anyways? I'd never met a Vergil."

"I was named after a poet." Vergil deadpanned, snapping out of his thoughts and trying listen past the plethora of sounds that Connor was making by his side as he stepped on top of a couple of fallen branches and dry leaves.

"Do you even like poetry?"

"I do."

"I think it's dumb." Connor offered, kicking a small pebble to get it out of his way as his small hands gripped his backpack straps a little harder out of pure boredom. "I like stories about dragons." His remark was met with silence and, after looking up at Vergil with a frown, he continued. "Mom said you kill monsters. Have you ever killed a dragon?"

"Dragons don't exist."

"Yes, they do!"

"No, they don't."

"They do!" Connor stopped in the middle of the road, arms crossed tightly against his chest, face a little red and sporting a pout on his small lips.

Vergil didn't stop. He merely glanced back at Connor over his shoulder, a low sigh escaping his lips. He had no time to quarrel with a child. "Make haste."

"I don't know what that means."

"It means I won't wait for you."

Vergil heard the sound of thumping shoes behind him as Connor deliberately made noise and splashed mud all over the place before he reached him, arms still crossed as he stared the ground in indignant silence.

Vergil very much preferred the silence instead of Connor's high-pitched screams that rung on his ears as he took refuge behind him, taking a fistful of his coat on his tiny hands and burying his tear-streamed face on its fabric, trembling with fear as the first wave of demons started pouring in, surrounding them both and plaguing the air with the stench of death and old blood.

Vergil could only do so much with the child holding onto him for dear life, limiting his movements. A flurry of summoned swords fell from the sky, and the ghostly blue blades impaled a group of enemies, turning them into dust. Another round of enemies came as soon as their bodies hit the floor, their attacks far more erratic, desperate to get a hold of them both.

Well, there was _something_ Vergil could do to. He needed the child away from him for a couple of minutes to let him handle the onslaught, and opening a portal to a random part of the forest seemed reasonable enough, even if the consequences could be dire.

"_Found!_"

"_Sparda!_"

"_Tell master!_"

Vergil made sure that any creature who dared to stray away from the carnage received a summoned sword straight to the skull, halting them in their quest. Two swift flicks of his wrist had been enough to open a small, child-sized portal beside him that lead to a small clearing he'd seen a couple of hours ago. The forest was denser beside that green patch of land and mud, and, if needed, the child could venture deep into the forest to hide until he arrived.

"This will take you somewhere safe. Step inside."

Connor shook his head furiously, wailing even harder. Yamato slid through the soft tissue of a Nobody, blood gushing to the floor in a crimson pool as the dying creature stepped back, hitting a couple of demons in the process before it disappeared in a cloud of dust.

"You will die if you stay here. Step inside." He said it harsher this time, icy eyes regarding the trembling figure of the child.

Connor swallowed hard, sniffling as he stared at the purple haze inside the portal; the cold stillness brushed past him, making goose bumps appear on his exposed skin.

"… I'm scared." Connor started, voice surprisingly small and tame compared to his guttural screams. "I don't wanna die." Tears started to form in his eyes once more, spilling out of his widened eyes.

"You won't." Vergil was aware he wasn't being particularly reassuring, and he let out a low sigh, trying to find the right words to, at least, get the child to cooperate. "I will be with you in three minutes."

"… Promise?"

A summoned sword impaled the eye of a demon that lunged dangerously close to them, splattering his coat with thick blood. "I promise. Now go."

Vergil watched him take a careful step inside the portal, looking back at Vergil as he did so. The hunter gave him what he hoped was a reassuring nod before he focused back on the demons surrounding him, adjusting his posture freely, determined to slay them all.

Three minutes passed before he wiped the demon blood off of Yamato with its scabbard, spraying it on a line on the soil. The low hum of space tearing itself apart greeted him uneasily, and he welcomed the cold before his feet stepped into thin air and then into the ground again.

A heavy smell plagued the surrounding air, one that he'd already had the displeasure of smelling a couple of times before: heavy, sulfuric, reeking like rotten flesh left in the sun.

Rhowen.

He was holding Connor by his jacket, pinning him against a tree. A single cut could be seen on Connor's chubby cheeks, tears and snot streaming down his face as he stared at the demon. Onyx skin contrasted his crimson eyes, claws as sharp as blades dangerously close to the skin on the boy's neck, glistening with a thin streak of blood. Rhowen's features sported a gleeful smirk, basking in the scent of fear lingering in the air.

"Let the child go."

"Let him go? He's been mine since the moment his lungs took their first breath." Rhowen spoke, his voice as raspy and maddening as Vergil remembered. He turned towards the hybrid, and the grin on his face widened, showing the yellowing rows of fangs on his mouth. "But I don't expect a feeble mortal to understand the laws of the Underworld." He let go of Connor, and the child slumped down, reaching the floor with a small thump. "I was... astonished when I heard the tale of a worthless spawn of Sparda turned ruler. I recall I saw you agonizing not long ago, alive only out of pity." Rhowen strode towards Vergil, the boy momentarily forgotten, the demon's blood thirst mixing with gloat and pride. "Tell me, _King_, do you still bear my scars?"

Vergil remembered the weight of one of Rhowen's hooves on his chest, the pressure cracking a couple of his ribs after he was thrown to the cold floor, weak and powerless. He remembered the demon's hot spit trickling down his cheek, and his distorted laughter resonating on his mind as his steps faded away. His bones had taken weeks to mend together once more. The burning marks of corruption had flared on his bruised chest, the imprint of his hoof sticking out in shades of black and blue against pale skin.

Vergil's eyes diverted to the child on the ground, frozen with fear and unable to move from his position. He could see Connor's chest rapidly rising and falling, silent tears streaming down his face.

His lips still managed to curl up in disdain at Rhowen's words, feeling a raw form of power inside him awakening on command, flourishing in his chest with latent anger. His body was soon engulfed in a flash of blue, and the power coursing through his veins allowed him to shift to his Sin Devil form, sending a heat wave across the land. Rhowen shielded his face with one of his arms, eyes widening with surprise before his expression hardened with newfound determination.

Vergil's mortal flesh was replaced with draconic scales, the tails of his coat morphing into two leathery pairs of wigs. On the nape of his neck, a thick tail began to form with a deadly pointed end, twitching as he took confident steps towards the lesser demon. Energy exuded from the horns on his face, heat emanated from his chest and arms and, with a swift flick of his wrist, the familiar weight of Yamato was on his right hand.

"No, but you will bear mine."

* * *

Rhowen's lifeless body crashed down with a loud thump after the fight, thick blood quickly pooling underneath him. The exhaustion began to creep in as soon as Vergil returned to his human form, even if the traces of anger were still clouding his bitter judgement. The blood that had splattered on his chest remained there, staining the gold buttons of his coat with a dark shade of red. He felt something slowly trickling down his face, and his fingers tentatively reached up, touching something hot and wet coming from a small wound that was already beginning to close on his cheek.

Perhaps he'd been too brutal, making his movements sloppy. But he'd always been one to hold grudges, hadn't he? Anger and resentment were all he'd known for so long, and he had no doubt that killing Rhowen had been liberating to a certain degree, chipping away the bitterness that he still carried on his mind.

Connor sniffled, wiping the snot off his nose with the back of his hand before he rubbed it on his pants. It took Vergil longer than he expected to get the child to trust him again after the vicious bloodbath that happened before his eyes. A part of him wondered if it had been because the child believed that Vergil's Trigger was 'a good dragon' –he might or might have not agreed with that statement just to amuse him and continue their journey in relative peace.

The sun was beginning to set when they finally arrived at the cabin in the heart of the woods. He could see a woman pacing back and forth inside, checking the clock on her wrist until she managed to see their tired forms approach. The door swung open before she ran towards them, dropping to her knees as Connor met her halfway, wrapping his small arms tightly around her neck.

She invited Vergil in, carrying the boy on her arms now. The place was surprisingly snug –a rental cabin, it seemed, judging by the list of rules framed on one of the walls. A cup of either coffee of tea was the sole object on a small kitchen table, already cold. The woman sat down on the couch, allowing Connor to jump down from her arms and snuggle next to her, exhausted eyes staring lovingly at his mother, trying to blink the tiredness away as he narrated the events that transpired that evening.

She thanked Vergil profusely, pulling the devil's payment out of the pockets of her pants and shoving a couple of crumpled-up bills on his hand before she turned towards Connor, kissing the top of his head tenderly as he lost the battle with sleep.

"I made a mistake when I was younger and far more foolish. A contract seemed like the solution to all my problems, but I lost it all, and I was afraid of losing him too." She started, voice wavering with regret as her fingers brushed against the nape of Connor's neck. Only baby hairs and a small mole could be seen now, no trace of the demon's mark. "I'm sorry for not being honest with you. The demon who gave me your name told me you were a father. I thought you would…understand things better. She said the woods would be safer, and even sold me a couple of wards to keep him away."

Of course this had to be far more complicated than what he'd initially thought. That parasite he'd visited a couple of months ago had orchestrated the encounter, unwisely hoping that Rhowen could do what she could only dream of doing to him out of retaliation.

"Your wards are useless." Vergil stated, feeling nothing in the air except the residual smell of chamomile tea. "I would not have been able to enter if they worked."

Vergil felt her eyes boring on his back as he opened a portal back to Devil May Cry outside the cabin. The smell of pizza and grease greeted him as soon as he reached his destination. Obnoxiously loud music was coming from their recently-fixed jukebox as Dante happily munched a cold slice of pizza.

"So, how was it?" Dante asked. Vergil looked a little worse for wear, and the permanent scowl on his face seemed a little meaner than usual.

"Uneventful."

* * *

**_Nothing says "I've been obsessed with The Witcher" quite like an escort mission._**

**_I'm sticking with the theory that says Vergil can only open portals to places that he has been to before or seen in the flesh. Hope that explains parts of this mess, lol._**

**_Thank you so much for reading! ❤️_**


	11. Dante's Day Off

Dante wouldn't say that Vergil was a liar. He was more of a half-truth type of guy.

He never said he _wasn't_ keeping Shadow, he'd merely mentioned that she couldn't go back to the Underworld while injured. He wasn't fooling anyone, but Dante let him have it his way that one time. Whatever made Verge happy made him happy –except, you know, going on a murder spree just to get more power.

He could see the way he looked at her, the way his fingers softly caressed her fur. Melancholic, almost. Verge didn't need to ask for permission to keep her –not that he was going to, anyways, but if he did, the answer would've been yes. All Dante had was Vergil's too, even if he didn't want to accept it. Maybe he didn't have it on paper, but it was one of those things that Dante always had in mind –it was always _the _office, _the _shop, _the_ money, never only his.

And Nero's too, he couldn't forget about his nephew. Their legacy. The better one out of the three. He actually had _that_ on paper.

He wrote his testament years ago with a little help from Morrison. He made sure that the building, the car, and pretty much anything valuable he had lying around would go to Nero when the time came. It wasn't much, but it was _something_. He'd thought about leaving him Dante too, even if he doubted Nero would use it – it wasn't the kid's style, but it would be a good memento, a token of appreciation for his favorite nephew.

Mother never let them have pets besides that one goldfish with about 10 ever-changing names because he and Verge couldn't agree on one. Dante saw its broken fishbowl on the floor, smashed to a million pieces after the fire, and that had been enough to put him off pets. He kept telling himself that he didn't have the time or money to take care of one –and it was all true. He was barely home, and animals needed food and water to survive –things that he sometimes didn't even have. It would've been completely selfish to make a pet suffer that same fate.

Luckily, Shadow didn't need food. Or litter. Or water. She just needed attention and some obedience lessons. Verge was a surprisingly good pet owner. He spoke her same language, spoiled her rotten, scolded her when needed –she absolutely hated it and threw her little temper tantrums every time it happened, but she looked a little cute when she was pissed.

He always got a good laugh when she heard her wreaking havoc in Verge's room. Crashing, thumping, smashing, Vergil's muffled voice, the flash of black that would inevitably slip under his door when Verge disciplined her. Dante would groan into his pillow and tell her to stop biting him and go bother Vergil's instead –it seldom worked, and she would also run around his room, knocking this and that on the floor until she got tired, bit him again, and went back to her room as if nothing ever happened.

It was nice to have her around. And it was nice to see Vergil smiling a little more.

"Guess it's just you and me today, Kitty."

Shadow huffed, melting into a putty on his arms and trickling down into the floor before she regained her normal form. She stared longingly at the door, feeling Vergil's presence slowly dimming away. He'd been abundantly clear that she would not be going with him. She'd hissed and batted Vergil's boots as he walked towards the door out of indignation. Was Vergil coddling her? Maybe. Was she as prideful as Vergil and refused to admit that she wasn't strong enough to kill ever single demon she came across? Yup. No other way around it.

Dante had to pick her up so Vergil could walk outside freely, but she looked sad now, sitting there, on the floor, tail curled with its tip reaching her front paws, markings barely glowing.

"You know you can't go. You're too small. I almost stepped on you the other day."

That had actually happened. She threw one of her hissy fits with Vergil and decided to sleep in Dante's room just to spite him. The bed was littered with crap, forcing her to sleep on top of a pile of clothes by the side of the bed. Dante was still groggy and fighting the urge to go back sleep when he'd lazily gotten out of the bed, leaning all his weight on his feet without seeing the bundled-up cinnamon roll of a cat that was there. He, unfortunately, stepped on the very tip of her tail –it was all hair, but she had gotten _offended_ by the action and retaliated by clawing his ankle.

It hurt like hell.

He apologized; Shadow apologized later by licking the still-healing wound because it had been that deep, and they were back to being buddies again.

A string of small roars left her mouth as she stood up to walk towards him. Her eyes and face weren't the most expressive thing ever, but he could imagine her cursing him for the joke.

"Yeah, sorry, that was a low blow."

So what if he liked to pretend that he could understand what she was saying? Shadow was probably playing along, too. And he could understand a sound of two, thank you very much. The sound for Vergil was a higher-pitched roar. Short and sweet with a little step in the notes. The sound for Dante was deeper and stayed in her throat. And then there was that other sound that she used to refer to them both, more of a chirp, a little longer than both of their names. Vergil said it meant 'friend' –or 'human', it very much depended on the context, but it was way better to pretend that she was always calling them friends.

He was still lost in thought when he walked towards the desk. He turned back to face the shop as he leaned back on it, barely sitting on the edge of the wooden surface to enjoy the stillness. He watched the sunlight seeping in, casting a yellow glow on the floor and furniture, noticing that no sounds could be heard besides the faint chirping of birds in the distance

His hand darted towards the right, determined to grasp a cold and familiar rectangular frame and touching nothing but air and wood. Mom's picture had adorned his desk for decades, and he still hadn't gotten used to her not being there, staring at him with that gentle smile on her face.

She'd seen him weep countless times, both as a child and as an adult. Had seen him drunk out of his mind, trembling hands holding the glove Vergil had slashed years go. Had seen his hand hovering over the phone, fingers grasping it tightly as he dialed Nero's number before he stopped half-way through and slammed it back down. Had seen him staring at her, wishing she was still alive, hoping to magically hear her voice whispering encouraging advice before he completely lost his way.

He sometimes wondered what she would think of him now. Of them. He and Verge had their fair share of fuck-ups, failures, and regrets throughout the years. She wouldn't be proud of those, but maybe she would be proud to know that they were living peacefully in the same space without a cloud of pain looming over their heads.

He wished Mom would be there to see Vergil's face again, to meet her grandkid. She would've loved the kid, and he was sure Nero would've loved her too.

Maybe Vergil would've told Mom about the kid's mother if she was still alive, and maybe Mom would've asked them both why they weren't married yet. Dante would apologize, saying he 'hadn't found the right one yet' because that would've been easier than telling her he didn't want anyone else to put up with his bullshit and the years of pent-up emotional baggage. Maybe she would've looked right through him and tell him it was time for him to heal, to open up and be happy. And maybe he would listen and stop trying to push away those who showed even a speck of interest in him.

Dante snorted. And that's why he very much preferred the noise. It kept the echoes of silence away.

"Man, I'm bored." Dante turned his attention towards Shadow, who'd decided to lie down on a light spot on the floor, basking in the warmth. "I'm gonna go for a walk. Take care of the place for me, will ya?"

Shadow was out the door as soon as his fingers twisted the doorknob. Of course she wouldn't listen, but that had been his intention all along. He needed some fresh air to let his mind wander a bit, and it probably wasn't healthy for Kitty to be inside all day.

Dante was used to the stares. He'd been stared at all throughout his childhood due to his hair, then due to his flashy clothes and, ultimately, because of the big-ass sword he carried around –when it wasn't inside a guitar case, of course. At least he didn't have to worry about that with Dante. The wide-eyed ogling had practically disappeared by now- he'd lived in that city for decades, it would been ridiculous to still get stared at like he was some kind of stranger-, but now Shadow had been thrown into the mix, walking proudly beside him, crimson eyes trying to blink the brightness away. He kept his expression friendly-neutral, brows relaxed, lips curled up slightly, shooting a small, reassuring smile to the ones who darted out of the way almost violently when they saw them. Everyone was still on edge after the Red Grave incident. He didn't mind that his friendly looks were returned with horrified ones as they stared down at the oversized cat by his feet.

What he did mind, though, was the chunk of cinder block that flew through the air and buzzed past his ear. A single gunshot echoed through the streets, hitting it straight in the middle and effectively breaking the gray object into pieces that rained down on Shadow's head. The demon turned back with a jump, staring at something behind him, ready to pounce as a threatening growl left her mouth, drowned away by the screams of passerby who got frightened by the sounds.

"Wouldn't do that if I were you." Dante started, taking his finger away from Ivory's trigger and tucking her on the back of his pants as he turned around, not quite surprised to see a familiar face with dusty traces of concrete still on his fingers. "She doesn't play nice." He brushed the small bits of concrete and dust off the top of Shadow's head, one arm wrapping around her chest to prevent her from walking any further as a subtle warning –she could ignore him altogether, but it wouldn't hurt to try to calm her down.

"Demon hunter my ass! Why are you parading around with that thing?"

John. Good ol' John. Casual acquaintance. Hot-headed pal. Decent bar buddy. Dante couldn't feign ignorance and call him insane for distrusting Shadow –he knew that the older man had lost his little girl a couple of years ago in a demon invasion down south-, but there was no way in hell he was letting him mess with his own. "Good to see you too, John. Kitty's part of the team now; I'd appreciate if you dropped that before someone gets hurt."

John shook his head, breath hitching out of pure and raw anger as he bent down to pick up another chunk of cinder block. "If you don't kill it then I will bash its fucking skull in."

Dante sighed. He didn't want to do that right now. John was a nice guy, if only a bit too intense. Kitty was snarling now, thick drool leaving her mouth and falling into the floor in an almost feral matter, eyes glazed with anger. Sometimes it was a curse that she could understand them so well.

"Don't do it." It was directed at them both, but he gave Shadow a stern look as he regained his posture to walk over to John, laying a heavy hand on his shoulder. He was shaking with anger, his clothes and breath reeking of cigarette smoke and alcohol. "Don't make me do this. Drop that thing and go home. It's too early not to be sober."

"Fuck off, Dante." His bony arms pushed him back, still holding the block on his hand. Dante could feel it poking and scratching the skin under his shirt, the unpleasant grainy texture leaving a barely-there cut on his chest. "I better not see that damn thing again." The block was carelessly tossed against the nearest wall, leaving a small indent on it before John crossed the street and pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his jacket.

So much for a peaceful evening.

"Thought you said you were gonna behave."

Dante could barely catch his name in the various sounds that Shadow produced, markings glowing steadily. She swatted the back of his knee for good measure, claws out just to scrape the skin. And he thought that they were past doing actual damage.

"That's it. We're going home."

And they would, if only the red and blue lights of a police car weren't blinding his eyes.

Just his luck.

But he might as well speed up the process.

He knew the drill: chest against the side door, hands behind his back, legs spread just a little bit. Kitty made some noise beside him, but he simply brushed her off.

"I'll explain later. Just play along."

She ignored him and roared when the officer got close, halting when the demon tried to act as a barrier between them.

"Let him do his job, Shadow. It's fine." He could see her backing off from the corner of his eye, yet she still remained close, a warning roar echoing in her throat.

"Thanks." Cold steel clasped around his wrists before warm hands started to pat his body down, quickly finding his set of guns and taking them away from his back. "Feeling cooperative today?"

"Must be your lucky day." Dante was prompted to take a couple of steps back to allow the officer to open the door.

"Mind your head."

The squeaky seats felt far too cold on his ass and the passenger's seat was pulled back a little too much. No doubt it was going to make his legs cramp up. He looked at Shadow, who was still eyeing the officer with distrust, looking like she was ready for a prison break. "Come on, girl, jump in. He's taking us for a ride."

The radio station played country music in the background as distorted voices spoke from the police scanner, answering Jim's request not to send the EMTs. A couple of twists of his wrists had been enough for Dante to open the handcuffs and slip them off.

"So, what was it this time?"

"The gunshot." Jim replied, placing the mic back on its rightful place beside the scanner. "I've seen the cat with your brother. We still get calls about that, but we dismiss them if there's a white-haired guy walking with it." He took his sleek thermos from the cup holder, hoping that the coffee he'd bought a couple of hours ago was still warm.

"A guy tried to chuck a piece of brick to Shadow's head. It was easier to break it down before it hit her."

"What an ass."

Jim had been one of the designated cops for the Residential Area for quite some time now. Dante had been in the back of his car so many times that they'd already become friendly.

Dante was still waiting for the local PD to actually join forces with them instead of fining them for "disturbing the public peace" and "destroying public property". Military dudes didn't care as much; they weren't afraid to ask for help when needed and even made sure to get their address so Uncle Sam could pay them for their time as "contractors" or "consultants".

Jim asked about his brother and the kid. Dante asked the man in blue about his husband and that whole incident with his crazy mother-in-law. They stayed inside the car for a while once they were outside the shop, talking freely and laughing amidst Shadow's annoyed huffs and puffs.

He waved Jim goodbye, pulling the shop's keys out of his pocket to unlock the door and, once inside, he threw them in the general direction of his desk, noting they fell somewhere on the floor behind it with a satisfying clink.

It had been a pretty shitty day overall, but you know what would make it better?

A hot, steamy, and cheesy pizza delivered right to his front door.

"What are you eating?"

Vergil wasted no time with pleasantries. No greetings. No meaningless small-talk. Not even a thank you for taking care of his cat –not that Dante was expecting any of that, but, in his humble opinion, Verge should, at least, hang up his coat and close the door properly behind him before making a fuss.

"Relax, it's just chicken." The red-clad devil watched with amusement as Vergil strode over to their poor excuse of a table, snatching a sauce-covered wing from the takeout container Shadow was eating from. It was Combo Wednesday and Kitty liked chicken; he figured she was going to like 'em. She wasn't a pizza kind of gal –which was unsurprising; Vergil wasn't a pizza guy either.

Speaking of Verge, he could see the disgust on his twin's face as his fingers stuck together with the sweet brown concoction that coated the chicken. He didn't even bother to take a sniff out of it before he wiped his fingers clean with one of the napkins left on the table.

"And that's BBQ sauce."

Vergil said nothing, but Dante could sense the annoyance emanating off of him as he picked Shadow up and placed her on the floor. She gave Vergil nothing but a twitch of her tail.

"You are aware she should not eat such things."

"Yeah, yeah. I know you don't wanna clean up her poop. I'll do it." His grin widened when he saw Kitty jumping back on the table, licking the sauce off of the wings. Dante jerked his head towards her, prompting Vergil to follow his gaze.

He heard Verge sigh before he placed Shadow softly on the floor once more, this time taking the container on his free hand and placing it on the floor beside her. "And you should not be on the table."

Dante's laugh didn't go unnoticed.

* * *

Sorry if there's been a serious lack of Dante in this fic. He needs some love too.

Thank you for reading! 😊


	12. A Little Lesson in Trickery

Shadow stalemated with a loud, high-pitched whimper after Dante's sword pierced through her skin, her body nothing but a magenta sphere floating on the ground above a sea of black crystal-like particles. The devil hunter grimaced, and a flick of his wrist had been enough to make Devil Sword Dante disappear from his grasp. He rubbed the fragile sphere with one of his hands in reassurance, not quite sure if Kitty could feel anything at all when she was like that.

Vergil had finally realized that he'd been coddling Shadow a little too much these last couple of months and decided he had to teach her how to fight properly. Turns out he couldn't do it. Big, bad Vergil backed off when one of his summoned swords pierced Shadow, making her wince in pain. And now Dante was doing the dirty work.

The red-clad devil couldn't say he didn't agree with what Verge was doing –took him long enough, actually. She barely knew how to tackle things that were bigger than her _because Vergil never let her try_. Of course she was going to stalemate, and they would have to stop every couple of minutes before it was too late, but it was a learning process, one that Dante didn't know why he agreed to take part in anymore. It was nerve wracking to know that every move had to be carefully calculated because, if he got a bit too carried away and hit her core when it was exposed like that, she could die.

"Yeah, I'm done. Don't wanna hurt her." Dante finally said after the pregnant pause that had fallen between them. "And she's just learning my pattern." Shadow's core popped under his hand and out came the demonic cat as if nothing had happened. Still, she batted Dante's knee for the sake of it, grumbling in protest like she always did.

"Yes, you are."

Her ears flickered at Vergil's comment, and she had the nerve to be offended by it, walking away from them with her head held high as she made her way towards the door. She pawed it, testing to see if it would open. The door gave in a little under the weight, but one quick glance back at Vergil's approaching form made her turn into a putty and slide under it before the devil had a chance to grab her.

* * *

Nero sighed, burying his head deeper into the pillow. He could hear the commotion outside, the clash of a sword against…something, and the muffled voices of his father and uncle in the backyard.

He turned his head, eyes squinting at the ray of light that seeped in from a slight opening in the curtains. Nero had fallen asleep in Dante's room after Vergil mentioned the old man wouldn't be home that night, and his uncle's messy bed proved to be infinitely better than the couch's cold, hard leather. He heard Shadow yelp, and after a grunt escaped his lips, he tore the blankets away from his body, determined to stop whatever those two idiots were doing.

"What the hell's going on?" Nero looked groggy still, bringing one hand up to shield his sleep-ridden eyes from the blazing sun. Dante had his signature grin on his face as Vergil held Shadow close to his chest, making sure to grab her front paws with one of his hands to prevent her from slapping him in the face.

"We're training Shadow." Dante mentioned, giving the black demon one last funny look before he brushed past Nero. "It's your turn."

* * *

"Don't think she's ready for weapons yet."

Shadow had stalemated again in front of Nero, black crystals under her core trickling upwards like a backwards hourglass. He wasn't hitting her_ that_ hard. Hell, he was making sure that only the tip of Red Queen would grace her, and his bullets didn't have a speck of demonic power in them, but he had a hunch she wasn't taking it seriously.

Vergil scoffed at the thought, the icy expression on his face hardening as he approached Shadow. "She is more than capable of handling them." One of his hands reached out to hover over her core, and Nero could see its murky contents swirling a tad faster before she popped out again, her tail twitching with annoyance. He turned towards the demon who, in turn, looked up to stare at him, red eyes blinking slowly. "You are rushing in blind." Shadow huffed, a small roar leaving her throat in retort.

She seemed uninterested by the fight, taking it all as a mere joke. No matter how many times both hybrids tried to tell her they were being serious, she knew they wouldn't hurt her. Still, there was something Vergil could try, even if he doubted Nero would be willing to try. Yamato was carefully placed on top of the seldom-used garden table Dante kept outside, prompting Nero to raise an eyebrow as Vergil approached him with dedicated steps, his expression nothing but carefully-displayed neutrality. Shadow lingered at the same spot Vergil had been only a couple of seconds before, eyeing them wearily and feeling the tension quickly thickening the air around them.

"What?"

The answer came in the form of a summoned sword that appeared above Vergil, glistening in blue before it was shot straight at Nero's chest. He managed to roll out of the way, his eyes hardening as Vergil wordlessly summoned another sword above him.

"What the hell, Vergil?"

The old man was really starting to piss him off. Nero'd dragged himself out of bed come morning, thinking the twins were at each other's throats yet again and barely had the time to swallow a dubious yogurt he found in the kitchen before he agreed to help Vergil train his cat, and this is what he was getting? A fucking fight because Vergil'd gotten huffy when things didn't go his way?

The sound of a bullet echoed in the air as he fired Blue Rose, shattering the summoned sword that, this time, was aimed at his head. It buzzed right past Vergil's head after the initial impact, and the older man's jaw tightened when the bullet graced his cheekbone, leaving a dark trace of charred skin and blood on its path. Shadow let out a fiery roar, morphing her body into almost a liquid form in order to quickly stand between them, making Nero halt abruptly. Her eyes were glazed over, blazing with latent anger as she crouched low, ready to pounce on Nero. She'd never been so…aggressive with him, but she seemed feral now that Vergil had gotten 'hurt'.

"Slice him."

The words coming out of Vergil's mouth were far too familiar for Nero's comfort. He'd said it so naturally it was almost startling, and, when their eyes met, he saw the traces of a smirk on Vergil's lips. The young hunter could feel his shoulder's slump when he realized what Vergil was doing, and he shot the older man an annoyed look that was quickly replaced by yet another frown as he hissed in pain. Shadow had used that light diversion to mull over Vergil's words and transform one of her front legs into a three-clawed cleaver of sorts that managed to hit Nero straight in the hip, making yet another ripping hole in the fabric of his sweater. "Could've told me we were doing this." He dodged the attack that came from Shadow's other leg, missing it only by a couple of inches.

"She would have noticed." Vergil paced to the side a couple of feet behind Shadow, watching intently as she continued the barrage of blows. Vergil was certain she would complain about this exchange once she'd calmed down, but, for now, anger seemed to cloud her judgment.

Red Queen got in the way of one of her attacks, and the high-pitched sound that ringed in the air as the metal clashed with the hardened tissue of her morphed leg mid-attack made both demon and hybrid recoil. It took Shadow longer to come back from the stagger, and, by the time her head had cleared, Nero was already on his way to attack his father. His sword burned with a red blaze, spewing specks of fire as he swung it in Vergil's direction only for it to hit the traces of a spectral blue that Vergil left as he dodged the blow.

"Pin him to the wall."

* * *

Shadow's tail twitched with annoyance as she lied on the couch, hitting the cushions hard as she kept her gaze fixated on the eldest hybrid. She allowed Dante to pet her, only letting out a small huff when his calloused hand reached out to brush the top of her head as he made his way towards the jukebox.

Vergil took a seat on the other end on the couch, ignoring the sounds that the demon's tail made when it began to twitch and trash around even harder until their eyes met, prompting her to let out a venomous hiss, ears flat against her head.

"Stop being dramatic."

She pawed the hybrid in the face in a swift motion, making him snort before she hopped off the couch and made her way up the stairs, deeming it far too exasperating to let Vergil be near her. She stopped at the top as Nero emerged from the bathroom, and took the opportunity to swat his knee with rage before she head butted the door that lead to Dante's room in order to open it.

"Guess someone's sleeping alone tonight."

* * *

I'm so sorry for the lack of updates.

I got a little sidetracked with a fic I wrote for Spardaverse Week (it's a Witcher AU featuring Dante, Vergil, Nero, and V that's still in the works. You can find it on AO3 under the name 'Stranger in a Strange Land' by In_Pieces, in case you want to check it out).

On another note, I have a Tumblr now! You can find me over there as 'wordborne'. Feel free to send me a message or an ask!

Thank you for your patience! And thank you for reading! ❤️


	13. Of Dads and Uncles

Driving had always been oddly therapeutic for Dante. The endless roads, the sun on his face, the clouds moving rapidly through the skies.

The conversation between him and Verge had fallen short a couple of minutes ago, engulfing them in a pleasant bout of silence. Spending Christmas with Nero and his family had been a nice change of pace, and he'd enjoyed it just a little too much.

Goodbyes were always the hardest, were they not? He could feel the void in his heart already, as if he was coming down from a buzz, cold and sinking. He'd miss Kyrie's soft voice humming in the kitchen. Miss the kids running from here to there, livening up the house. Miss Nero's soft, dad-like nature that Dante could never get enough of.

He'd also miss sleeping in the same bed as Verge, even if that was something he'd never tell his twin. Vergil's familiar warmth beside him had brought a lot of pleasant memories of simpler times when Mom was still alive and their biggest problem was figuring out who was going to sleep on the top bunk- the bottom one was for _losers_, and neither fancied themselves as one. Their arguments were always loud, and it never took long for one of them to come out scathed. Sometimes there were tears. Sometimes there were fists. The yelling would always wake their parents up, and Mom, bless her heart, would always try her best to get them to calm down, talk it out, and reach an agreement of sorts. That worked out well until Dad got tired of the fighting, plucked the top bunk out and made a giant bed for them both.

And, with that, there was finally peace in their household.

Kind of.

There was always something in the middle to keep the other away from their half of the bed- it was all Verge's idea because he _hated_ having his twin so close. Still, Dante would always roll over to his side of the bed in the middle of the night -not on purpose, though, he'd always moved a lot when he slept. Vergil's swat on the cheek would wake him in a daze, and then they would have another lengthy shouting match in 'hushed tones'.

Kitty slept between them these last couple of days, sprawled as if they were lying on a Cal King bed. His neck was still sore from sleeping in awkward positions, but hell, he'd do it again if he could.

His eyes drifted towards Vergil, trying to see what he what his lousy copilot was up to. He'd been far too silent, and Dante wouldn't be surprised to see that he'd fallen asleep just like he'd done on the way to Fortuna. Strangely enough, instead of seeing his twin with his eyes closed, he saw him wide awake, frowning as he stared at nothing, seemingly lost in thought.

"You alright?"

No answer, just a pensive hum that made Vergil frown even deeper, if that could ever be possible.

"Has Nero ever called you 'uncle'?" Vergil asked with a tone so neutral he might've been just talking about the weather or the fly that had gotten stuck on the car's windshield wipers.

If only Dante couldn't see right through that.

The red-clad devil was expecting something else from Vergil, something among the lines of him being tired, but he supposed it made sense, all things considered. Vergil's relationship with Nero was a little better than the mess it used to be a couple of months ago -they were past the screaming and the kid calling him 'a fucking asshole', for starters-, but Vergil was still Vergil, and Dante was still 'old man'.

"Nope," Dante replied, eyes back on the road just to make sure that the slowpoke on the right lane hadn't drifted a little too close to the left. 'Uncle' and 'nephew' were words that he still didn't feel exactly comfortable with just yet. 'Kid' was better. As was 'old man'. A tad more impersonal, yet too personal all together. "Why?"

Was Vergil really upset about that? Dante didn't want to outright say that his twin was jealous of his relationship with Nero. Bitter? Sure. Vergil had always been bitter and grudge-y. But jealous? Nah. Especially now that the kid had gotten him that cool violin that was carefully secured in the back seat.

He saw Verge's jaw tightening from the corner of his eyes, the stoic mask breaking just a bit as he spoke, his words laced with a certain type of confusion that seemed almost innocent to Dante:

"Nero called me 'dad' last night."

How foreign that word felt for Vergil, almost acidic as it left his lips. He'd paid little attention when Nero actually said it, his mind merely skimming over the word before he went to bed; but, now that his head was clearer, he could see that was the reason why Vergil had felt a strange type of tension between them in the morning.

Had Nero been…embarrassed? Or, perhaps, disappointed that he didn't acknowledge it? That he'd simply overlooked the fact that Nero had said a word that he'd never uttered before? And no, calling Vergil 'father' after telling him he would make him submit did not have the same connotation that the word had last night.

It'd been…personal. A sign that things between them were going well. That Nero felt comfortable enough around him to toss that word his way. That Vergil was doing well enough to deserve it, even if he didn't feel worthy of it.

Or, perhaps, it'd been something else entirely.

He was well-aware that there had been some sort of drinking involved last night- he was able to tell by the smell of Dante's putrid breath tickling the side of his face as he'd shamelessly snored the night away and how Nero had seemed to wince slightly when the sun hit his face in the morning.

Except Nero had been sober when he came into the room last night.

Dante's booming laugh beside him brought Vergil back to reality, and the low huff coming from the back let him know that he had, unfortunately, woken Shadow up. He shot his twin a glare, one that couldn't seem to waver that strange type joy sparkling in his brother's eyes.

"I'm not laughing at you," Dante quickly added, giving his twin a little dismissive way before his hand landed back on the steering wheel. "Okay, maybe I am. You should've seen that look on your –ouch!" A hint of black hit him as Shadow made her way to the front, smacking him with the tip of her tail. He wiped the bits of demonic fur off his lips with the back of his hand, knowing damn well that he was going to find them coating his mouth for the rest of the day.

"Nero really means the things he says, you know?" Dante continued, and he felt his brother's eyes boring into him, waiting for him to elaborate something that he already knew as Shadow nearly melted into a puddle in his arms. The red-clad devil couldn't remember if he'd ever heard Nero calling Kyrie by anything but her name in public, and guess what? He'd called Vergil 'dad'. In private. Just for the two of them to hear. And if that wasn't some goddamn sign that Verge didn't have to think too hard about it then he didn't know what the hell that'd been. "Think he appreciates that you're finally acting like a dad."

"Finally?"

"Staring at him from across the room doesn't count as parenting." Dante couldn't help it. Vergil had actually done that the first month or so and that certainly didn't fit into anyone's definition of 'bonding'. "All jokes aside," He continued, shooting his brother a glance and offering a sincere smile. "You're doing good, Verge."

Vergil scoffed. He didn't need a pep talk from his brother about his parenting skills –or lack thereof.

How easy it was for him to compare his experiences with his own father to the ones he was offering Nero. Vergil'd been more of a threat than a parent and had, at one point, seen his son as something disposable. He wasn't the same man he used to be merely months ago, but he knew how very much alike he and Nero were, and how his actions were going to be forever embedded on the child's mind.

Vergil would've never accepted such foolery. Would've never accepted feeble promises of 'making amends'.

But Nero wasn't him.

His son was still willing to give him a chance. Wanted to believe that he'd truly changed. That he was trying, for once, to think about someone other than himself.

How absurd it was that such a simple word had caused such an internal storm of self-doubt and loathing.

He couldn't escape the past. It would always be there, looming over his head, reminding him of his mistakes, both past and present. Of who he was. Of who he could've been.

But, for now, he would rather focus on the future. On who he could be. On who he could become.

"I suppose I am." Vergil finally concluded, absently running one of his hands through Shadow's fur. The sun was starting to go down and the sky began to show an array of oranges and pinks around them. He reached for the radio, turning it on and letting the music drown away his restless thoughts.

* * *

**I'm so sorry for taking nearly a month to upload something again. I couldn't, for the life of me, give this chapter a proper ending or finish another draft that I have lying around.**

**I'm a lil nervous, not gonna lie. I wanted to explore the whole 'Nero called Vergil dad' thing from the Christmas special -thanks for the idea, AVAAntares!-, but my Vergil has always been, well, quite an ass, so I hope I managed to do him justice.**

**Thank you so much for your patience! And thank you for reading ❤️**


	14. Slip Ups

Nero loved the thrill of the fight, the adrenaline coursing through his veins, the sound of roars, clashing swords and bullets echoing through the empty space. Splats of blood and guts danced around them, bits and pieces sticking to his hair and coat. He grimaced in disgust when a Pyrobat's wing smacked him on the cheek, and rolled his eyes when Dante laughed to his right, his fingers sticky and red with blood.

A Green Empusa was flying over Dante's head, giving Nero the perfect opportunity to shoot it down and, with any luck, make its disgusting green goo fall straight on his uncle's head. He quickly pulled Blue Rose out of its holster, blue eyes following the lesser demon's movements carefully before he pulled the trigger.

Nero was thrown to the side, making him lose his balance and stumble to the left just as the bullet left the muzzle. Needless to say, it never hit its intended target.

"What the fuck, Vergil?"

"Pay attention." The blue-clad demon snapped as one of his summoned swords pierced through a Nobody's eyes, preventing it from bouncing any closer to Nero as it exploded beside them.

"I can take care of myself."

"Can you?"

He forgot how infuriating it could be to fight along Vergil. Sure, that thing might've exploded on his ass, but he would've been _fine_. He'd dealt with worse. And now he had to wait for yet another chance to get Dante back for being an asshole.

The gust of cold behind him let him known that Vergil had moved along, and he felt his shoulders relax at the thought. Nero shook his head to regain his focus, opting to concentrate on the new wave of demons that circled them.

Shadow was getting more confident on her own, slicing and severing limbs without Vergil barking orders at her. Nero managed to scoop her up with his spectral arms when a demon sneaked up behind her, and felt her whole body rumble with a mix of anger and surprise before she jumped to safely behind him. Stalemating wouldn't be a great idea right now.

The four of them moved in sync in flashes of blue, red, and black, keeping a hectic yet steady rhythm. His eyes closed in on some unfamiliar foes that stumbled towards them, their gray skin bloated and pulsating almost comically as they waddled in search for blood.

Shadow climbed on Dante's shoulders, using the old man to propel herself into the air and turn into a small but deadly guillotine that managed to burst open the strange demon's head.

And then it exploded.

A black, tar like substance sprayed out from the place where its head used to be and landed on Shadow, who let out a pained yelp as she stalemated.

She would be fine. She had to be fine. Dante was right by her, fending off the other demons who tried to get close to her exposed core.

What the fuck where those things?

Nero felt a gust of wind brush the back of his neck before he heard it again. That same dull explosion behind him, wet and chunky. But he felt nothing. Nothing but that familiar cold as he tightened his grip on Red Queen. He was waiting for something. Waiting for the pain. Waiting to hear Vergil's voice telling him just how reckless he was.

Nothing.

When Nero turned, he wished he hadn't. The black tar had splattered all across Vergil's chest and was slowly pooling by his feet, eating away all the grass it managed to touch with a high-pitched hiss.

"Shit. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." Vergil spat, but Nero could hear that thing sizzling still, could hear the slight strain in Vergil's voice that just wasn't out of anger.

He would've said something else if he was fine. He would've moved by now if everything was fine. But he wouldn't. He couldn't.

The tar was eating away the fabric of both his coat and vest, seeping into his skin and slowly setting it ablaze with pain as it spread like a wildfire, melting it away into nothingness at an alarming rate.

_Fuck._

"I'm getting you out of here, okay?" Nero said sternly, trying his hardest not to give away the fear that was eating him inside. He'd never seen something like that before. And it was all his fucking fault. If he'd only paid more attention. If he'd only listened. "Dante!" He shouted, glancing back over his shoulder with urgency.

The red-clad hunter was battling a couple of demons alongside a newly-restored Shadow, and the cocky smile playing on his lips faltered when his eyes landed on them.

"Get him out of here. We got this."

* * *

Nico was humming a tune as she sat on the driver's seat with a cigarette on her hand. She took a slow drag, watching the desolate scene in front of her full of collapsed buildings and blinking streets lights. She grimaced at the flowery taste in her mouth, cursing herself for falling for yet another pretty ad on the internet. Herbal, handmade cigarettes to help you quit smoking? Well, she wasn't planning on quitting any time soon, but the package was so damn pretty and artsy and, well, she was a sucker for those types of things.

If only they didn't taste like ass.

Even Nero had made fun of her, saying she smelt like one of those shitty air-fresheners the fancy gas stations would have in the bathroom to get rid of the smell of old shit and stale pee. She was supposed to smell like tea, dammit, not a fucking air freshener. Whatever. She paid 12 bucks for a pack of 10 when her usual pack cost like, what, 8 dollars? So you bet she was going to smoke 'em all.

The only reason why she hadn't been around that much was because she was pissed at Vergil, and had _better_ things to do instead of dealing with that whole mess- not really, but she'd been here and there getting some odd demonic bits and pieces with Lady by her side and, well, time sure flies when you are having fun.

Wait, what was she saying? Oh, yeah, that she was mad at Vergil and was ready to tear him a new one for being such a fucking asshole. But, turns out he was not that bad after all? Or at least that's what she'd heard coming both from Kyrie and Nero, and if Kyrie had any reason to believe that the man who tore off her boyfriend's arm was redeeming himself, then she had no reason to doubt it.

Oh, and Vergil had also become a crazy cat lady. She had to see that for herself.

He'd left his cellphone in the van just to keep Nico quiet 'cause she was damn sure he had more pictures of his cat in there. And guess what? He fucking did.

Vergil's gallery consisted of pictures of Shadow-Nico had to admit that he had a keen eye for those sorts of things- and some damn pictures of his… notes? Was this guy really writing things down and then taking pictures of some goddam sheets of paper instead of using the note app on his phone? _God_. It was all boring stuff like: go to the dry cleaner's after 2, look for more books about this author, visit some random place. Just old man stuff.

She quickly opened the camera and took a couple of selfies, deleted the shitty ones, and placed the very best one as Vergil's background picture. He had the yellow background pic that came as a default and definitely needed something prettier in there. The thought made her snort as she tossed the phone on the passenger's seat before she took another drag of her cigarette, the overpowering taste of powdery flowers coating her mouth like dust.

This wasn't the worst place she'd been in, but it was definitely one of the most boring ones. No cars were passing by, no stray demons prowling around. It was all too quiet and uninteresting. That, until she decided to glance to her right. She chocked on the smoke and started coughing hard, bringing one hand to her mouth to try to suppress the hacking sounds she was making as she jumped out of the driver's seat, and her cigarette landed unceremoniously on the ground as she ran to help Nero bring Vergil in.

They placed him down on the couch as softly as they could, and Nico let out a shaky sigh as she glanced at her friend. Nero was frowning, and it didn't take a genius to know that he was scared shitless. The wound on Vergil's chest grew by the second, dripping down a strange mixture of blood and tar. Nico could swear that, through all the blood and guts, she could see a glimpse of the couch behind him. Whatever this thing was had managed to make an actual hole through Vergil, and it showed no sign of stopping just yet.

"Don't just stand there, dumbass. What are we gonna to do?" Nico didn't mean to sound so harsh, but she was fucking scared too. Vergil was the King of Hell, for fuck's sake, he shouldn't be dying on their shitty couch.

"You think I know what to do?" Nero hissed, keeping his voice low as if trying to hide his answer from Vergil. Not that it would matter, anyways. Nico could tell that their conversation was the last thing on his mind. Vergil was oddly quiet, and the artisan noticed that the way he breathed sounded awfully similar to the one of a dying animal.

But that was one of the things she was going to keep for herself for the time being.

Nero tried to undo Vergil's vest to try to get a better look at the wound, but he pulled his hand away with a hiss as soon as his fingers touched the black tar. That single touch alone had managed to eat away a couple of layers of skin, leaving it reddened and pulsating with pain. They needed to find a way to get rid of that thing. Fast.

"Wait, I got an idea!" Nico took off to the small bathroom at the back of the van and let the shower run. She stepped out of there only when she made sure that the water was as hot as it could get, not really caring about the first degree burn that now adorned the back of her hand. She wasn't sure if it was actually going to work, but it was better than just standing there like idiots hoping that it went away by itself.

* * *

"Must you stare?"

Vergil didn't need to open his eyes to know that they were ogling him. He could feel their eyes boring into his frame, covered merely by an old, dusty blanket and Shadow, who'd decided to lie on top of his legs. He kept one of his forearms draped over his eyes in hopes of lessening the pain caused by a pesky migraine while his free hand rested on top of Shadow's head, absently caressing her fur.

He, surprisingly, received no response other than a huff that came from the driver's seat. He would have to thank the mechanic later for her valiant attempt to mostly drive like a civilized being. He could feel the skin on his torso pulsating with searing pain as it desperately tried to heal itself, a process that would, undoubtedly, take longer than expected, seeing that what had embedded itself into his body was a corrosive type of poison that refused to leave his system.

It'd been only logical for him to place himself between Nero and the creature. He knew how the child fought and could only expect him to put a bullet in its skull and spray the poison directly on his face.

The sole thought of Nero suffering that fate intensified his headache.

"How do you feel, Verge?"

"I've dealt with worse."

Dante snorted. This was a walk in the park compared to what Vergil had been through, but that didn't make him worry any less.

Another heavy silence fell upon them, broken only by the sound of Nico's lighter as she lit up her third cigarette of the evening.

"I'm sorry," Nero finally spoke up, his voice soft, remorseful. "I should've fucking listened to what you said."

"_Nero_."

The harshness in his father's tone made Nero falter. He wanted for Vergil to continue, to tear him a new one, maybe to say 'I told you so', but nothing came. He only saw Vergil's jaw tighten with pain, and that was the end of their conversation. His eyes wandered to the pile of ruined clothes by the door full of melted holes before they trailed back towards the dark form lying on top of Vergil, red eyes staring wistfully at her friend.

"I will be fine if you let me sleep."

Dante's heavy hand fell on Nero's shoulder, and he gave the old man a resigned smile.

Vergil was right. Maybe sleeping it off would help.

And, for now, it would be best if Nero tried to keep himself busy by finding a way to fix his father's clothes.

* * *

**This had been sitting in my drafts for months now, but a comment left by a kind Guest here got the creative juices flowing again. Thank you for that! **

**The unnamed demon is based on The Witcher's Rotfiends, although this one is far more destructive.**

**Thank you for reading! ❤️**

**On a totally unrelated note, I've been writing drabbles on Tumblr for a couple of days now. Feel free to drop by and request something! You can find me there as _wordborne_. **


	15. Old Enemies

Vergil was, certainly, intrigued when Nico said she had a present for him, one that, in her own words, would 'blow his fucking mind'. He expected an ancient relic, an old tome, or, perhaps, a clue about Beowulf's whereabouts -he couldn't understand _why_ his dear brother had decided to pawn it and let it rot in that cursed place for so long that they ultimately sold it.

But, of course, he'd kept his expectations far too high.

Nico urged him to follow her inside the van, where the mechanic triumphantly kicked the bathroom door open, letting it hit the wall with a snap. "It's there. Knock yourself out." She was practically beaming beside him, but her expression quickly shifted into annoyance when Vergil refused to step inside. "You goin' in or what?"

The bathroom was as cramped and dirty as he remembered it. The mirror was speckled with toothpaste here and there, half a bar of soap full of grime resting on the sink. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary until he stared at the shower, noticing the small, dark-colored circles dotting its walls. He could barely feel a presence prickling the back of his mind, almost completely masked by Shadow as she slithered between his legs to poke her head inside, curious about the prospect of a so-called 'present'.

Vergil's jaw tightened when he spotted the tiny legs poking out behind a bottle of shampoo that had been carelessly left on the ground. He could recognize that atrocity anywhere and, apparently, so could Shadow. A threatening rumble left her throat as she crouched low, eyes glazed over the creature that promptly tried to use the bottle as a shield.

"Hey!" Nico yelled, sounding far too much like a shriek to Vergil's ears. "Scoot before I spray you with water." Heavy boots were stomped in front of the feline, and Shadow let out an annoyed huff as she backed away, crimson eyes blinking in Vergil's direction in hopes that the silver-haired man would defend her. To her dismay, Vergil only nodded.

She made sure to swat Nico's knee on her way out. The mechanic pretended to stomp after her, and the demon quickly bolted out of the way, grumbling as she did so.

"Where did you find it?"

Nico shrugged. "Must've gotten in through a window or somethin'." She said, picking up the bottle on the ground and letting the critter quickly scurry to the soap holder. "We were cool until it started _burning all my shit_!" The spider-like creature flinched at the tone of her voice, and Nico merely shook her head, shooting it a nasty glare.

"I suppose you are unaware of how much it can grow."

"I'll leave the worryin' up to you. It's your problem now."

"I will _not_ keep it."

"Well, I don't want it anymore!"

"Kill it, then."

And with that, Vergil left.

He couldn't fathom _why_ Nico thought he'd want that lousy pest. Phantoms were nothing but shameless and deplorable creatures that he had no desire to deal with- unless it was, of course, in battle, where he could tear them to pieces. He was certain that she didn't know about his history with them -as far as he was aware of, Dante was the only one who had a more defined notion of it-, but trying to _gift_ him the very creature that had almost slain his human half was, to put it mildly, preposterous.

Shadow almost skipped beside him, head held high as she followed him back to the shop, claiming he'd made the right decision. Phantoms were generally hated by most of the Underworld, and she couldn't imagine a life with one of those things around.

Vergil settled down on the desk, picking up the bills he'd left on the surface when he heard the door creak open. He glanced up just in time to see a tattooed hand slide in a small cardboard box before the door was shut again. The sound of wheels screeching against the pavement filled the silence not so long after, and Vergil let out a close-mouthed sigh, feeling the traces of a headache form on the back of his head.

It would be best if he was swift about it.

He wearily approached the inconspicuous box and brought it over to the desk, almost expecting the Phantom to jump out and sting him in retaliation. But it didn't. The demon remained inside its box, curled in a corner, staring up at him with those three pairs of voidless eyes before it let out a string of incomprehensible noises -is that what baby babbles were supposed to sound like in Abyssal? A myriad of senseless rasps?

The Phantom seemed to be on edge by how close Vergil was, tiny legs flaring up in red, burning a hole into the cardboard.

"Stop."

The Phantom refused to listen. Such a feisty little pest. He offered the demon his hand, and watched it recoil before it unfurled its tail.

"I have no patience for your antics." Vergil advised, taking his eyes off the Phantom to give Shadow a pointed look when she jumped on the desk, magenta swirls dancing steadily on her skin.

After what seemed like careful consideration, the Phantom slowly approached Vergil's hand and climbed on it, careful not to lose its balance.

It was _pathetic_ how small he was, and how Nico had, single-handedly, managed to domesticate him.

Shadow tried to swat the intruder, but Vergil moved his hand just in time to avoid it. "Shadow." He warned, and graciously let her tail hit his cheek as she jumped down, grumbling under her breath.

That was the exact moment that Vergil realized he'd, shamefully, made his choice.

* * *

Dante's favorite day of the week was Wednesday. Why? Cause it was Combo Wednesday, and he could buy that sweet treat that everyone in the household loved so much -okay, he and Kitty were the ones who loved it.

He'd learned his lesson, though.

Full-blooded, demonic cats should _not_ eat BBQ, so, this time, he asked for half an order of plain wings for the cat, and the other half with light BBQ sauce for his dear brother, who'd finally decided to give them a shot.

"Perfect timing." Dante exclaimed when he spotted Vergil at the table, calmly sipping some tea. Kitty was on the couch, tail twitching with annoyance as she whined out Dante's name. "What? Got something for you too." He tossed the food on the table, much to Vergil's dismay, and looked up to grin up as his brother.

Only to be met with _that_ thing.

A small Phantom was slumbering on Vergil's shoulder, almost nestled between the fabric, his tiny torso moving up and down as he breathed.

Dante only sighed. "New friend of yours?"

"Only until he's capable of fending off for himself."

Yeah, Dante had heard that one before.

* * *

**Hey, y'all.**

**It's been... a while, lol. Sorry about that. My mental health hasn't been the best lately, and I've been slowly trying to get my groove back.**

**Thank you so much for your patience and continued support, and, as always, thank you for reading! ❤️**


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